Fumbling Towards Ecstasy
by buffyfan32578
Summary: Spuffy. Up to NC-17. A new take on Season Six, in which Buffy's not so mean and there's a new Slayer coming to town...
1. Hold On

**A/N: The first chapter or two will be remarkably similar to the series, though I've changed it around- what is said, when and where, etc. But it is still technically AU after Bargaining, as long as you keep in mind that the first few chapters are just setting everything else up. :-)**

**Fumbling Towards Ecstasy**

**Lovesbitch25**

**Chapter One: Hold On**

"_**Hold on, Hold on to yourself; for this is gonna hurt like hell**_

_**Hold on, Hold on to yourself; you know that only time can tell**_

_**What is it in me that refuses to believe this isn't easier than the real thing?"**_

Those solemn hazel eyes could slay him, staring up at him with so much pain and confusion. Her mangled hands lay trembling and pale in his, and he imagined that through them he could hear everything going on within her; her racing heart, the pumping of blood as it surged through her newly reanimated body, every little atom fizzing with electricity. Meeting her gaze, he tried to smile and gently squeezed them.

"Know what it's like, pet." His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. She seemed startled by this, looking down at their joined hands. But she didn't pull away. That made all the difference, that she didn't reject him and pull away.

_Her breath came in ragged gasps, her lungs burning as she tried to scream and found she had no voice. Dark, so dark she couldn't see her nose or her hands as she reached up and scrambled at the satin lining. She ripped and drove her fists through the wood, feeling the shards tear at her knuckles, ripping into the soft skin of her palms. Her entire body was high-strung with panic when the first clod of dirt fell across her face, and she tried to cry out as she pushed herself upwards, through the ragged opening into the soft soil. Dirt, everywhere, in her eyes, mouth, nose. Surrounded by all that cool, moist soil, her lungs burned and she kept clawing up, up, up…_

"To crawl out of your own grave..."

She met his eyes then, so soft and blue, searching hers for an answer. "Yes… that's… that's what I had to do." She felt herself blush, her eyes water. Her body was quivering again and she felt sick. Leaning over, she vomited across the floor.

"Dawn? Dawn?!" Willow burst through the door - Xander, Tara and Anya quick behind her - and turned to see Spike in the living room. With Buffy. Safe, clean, not-crazy-looking Buffy. "Buffy! You're okay; we were worried, after you ran off…" She hurried across to the Slayer, who looked up, unblinkingly. Spike stood up quickly, turning to leave before looking back at Buffy; she smiled at him – a sad, quiet smile that Willow nearly missed except that she couldn't look away from her.

A loud galumphing on the stairs announced Dawn's arrival, superseded by the loud banging of the back door as Spike left. Xander and Tara had come to sit next to Buffy, one on either side, hugging her, petting her like a sick child as she sat motionless.

Willow put forth her brightest smile, set at 110 watts - full glare-on happy - as she hugged Buffy around her thin shoulders.

"We're so glad you're back Buffy, so glad."

In her room that night, Buffy lay in bed, eyes open. Despite the total absence of light, the suffocating silence and heaviness of a house fast asleep, her eyes wouldn't close. She feared she might not wake up, or if she did that she wouldn't be here, in her bed. But in the box.

"_Is this hell?"_

She wasn't fully convinced that it wasn't. Maybe these weren't her friends. Maybe that wasn't her sister, and this wasn't her home, or her Sunnydale. Maybe she'd fall asleep, only to wake up suffocating in a tiny satin-lined box again. Maybe that was her hell.

Giving up altogether on sleep, and too spooked to even lie quietly with her eyes shut, she swung her legs off the bed and walked silently to the closet. She bent down to retrieve an old pair of tennis shoes, caked in grime and slipped them on. The bedroom window was slightly ajar, and she wrestled it upwards before climbing out onto the steep roof.

A bottle of Jack was his current distraction. He was a little drunk, watching the candlelight turn the bottle into startling shades of amber as he swilled it from a glass. His mind was full of disquiet, penetrating thoughts, and recurring memories. Buffy, jumping off of Glory's tower; the look she'd given him that night, the one that had made him feel alive, like a man. And her quietness tonight. How she'd sat there and let him take her hands in his, tell her those things. Buffy, Buffy, Buffy. He was full of her, couldn't push her from his mind. He smelt her, felt her as if she were right next to him…

"Spike?"

He nearly jumped from the armchair, swinging around to face… her. Buffy, in her schoolgirl pajamas and tennis shoes. He'd nearly chucked his bottle at her, before he'd recognized her. At once his posture relaxed, and he watched her impassive face intently.

"Couldn't sleep," she said, by way of excuse. "Figured you wouldn't be asleep either. What with the no sun and all."

"No rest for the wicked." He smiled, gently, offering her his deserted armchair. She curled up into it, watching him intently, face partially hidden by her long blond tresses. He sat himself across from her, on the overturned crate that served as a coffee table. Was almost tempted to take her hands again, remembering the semblance of sitting face to face with her like this in her own living room. She seemed to remember it too, looking at her bandaged knuckles.

"Dawn, she fixed me," she offered, showing him the gauzy bandages. They sat for a few more minutes in silence, each simply absorbing the presence of the other. Spike looked up at her, a question forming slowly on his lips.

"What was it like? Where you were?" he asked finally, eyes looking straightforward into hers. She cringed a bit, lowering her eyes. Her lips parted, as if she were about to answer, then shut again.

"It… it was… I don't know." She shook her head, in confusion, and he smelt the saltiness of the tears welling up in her eyes. He reached out for her hands, taking them in his own. With brazen confidence, he kissed her knuckles, looking up into her eyes.

"One hundred and forty-seven days you were gone. Think I told you, yeh? I missed you, so much, every day. And at night… I saved you every night. Relived it, in my dreams and waking. A million things I could've done differently. And now you're back. Can't help thinking there's some good in it, can I? Even though… not sure you're so happy to be here yet." He cocked his head, looking up questioningly into her eyes. She blushed, darted her eyes to the side. Softly withdrew her hands, gathering them close to herself. "S'okay. Don't have to share it with me. Just… if you need anything, Buffy, anything at all…" He reached out to tip her chin back to him. She didn't refuse, him, but met his gaze with trembling lip and watery eyes. "I won't fail you again."

"_**So now you're sleepin' peaceful, begin to pray**_

_**You'll be strong tomorrow and will see another day**_

_**Ad we will praise it and love the light that brings a smile across your face"**_


	2. Wait

**Fumbling Towards Ecstasy**

**Lovesbitch91**

**Chapter Two: Wait**

"_**When all we wanted was the dream, **_

_**to have and to hold that precious thing **_

_**like every generation yields a newborn hope unjaded by their years"**_

A million things she had seen and felt and experienced in a hundred and forty-seven nights. Or thought she had. The tortures her friends believed she had experienced… they hadn't been true tortures until she'd been brought back to life. Images that awoke painful remembrance when she closed her eyes and they flooded her mind. Of course she couldn't tell them. They were so happy, glad she was back and among them, proud of what they'd done. Saved her from hell.

They were wrong. They hadn't brought her back from hell. They'd only just introduced her back into it.

"Morning sleepyhead," Willow glanced over to Dawn as she sat, groggy-eyed, at the kitchen island. Tara was busy at the stove, working her magic at turning Bisquick pancake mix into Mickey Mouse and Friends. Sliding a Mickey with mix-matched ears onto a plate, Tara set the plate before Dawn.

"Eat up. Xander will be here soon to give you a ride to school." Tara handed her a glass of milk before kissing Willow quickly on the cheek and returning to the stove. Willow smiled, watching Dawn slather her pancakes in syrup.

"I called Giles this morning. He said he'd be on the first flight back.," Willow said, hovering next to Dawn. She looked up in acknowledgment, and nodded.

"Where's Buffy?" she asked through a mouthful of food. "I wanted to check up on her before I left for school."

Willow grabbed a steaming mug of coffee, pointing to the back door. "Outside. I was just gonna take her some coffee."

Dawn wiped her mouth and stood up abruptly, nearly knocking the chair over in the process. "I'll take it to her."

Everything seemed so much more peaceful, curled up on the lounge chair with her knees to her chest. The birds twittered occasionally, and the grass smelt of morning dew. The sun wasn't too bright, crowded as it was by fluffy clouds.

The back door swung open, then, and Buffy turned to see Dawn holding a cup of coffee at arm's length as she gingerly took the porch steps one by one.

"Hey Buff." She took the cup, making room for Dawn to sit next to her. "Brought you some coffee…" Dawn seemed at a loss for something to say, so Buffy raised the cup to her lips, taking a small sip of the sweetened coffee.

"You have school today?" Buffy didn't look up from her cup, staring at the creamy brown surface, at the tiny frothy bubbles along the rim.

"Yeah, Xander's picking me up on his way to the site." Dawn was fumbling with her hands now. "Are you okay?" Her voice was hesitant, and Buffy reflected on how often people asked her that, 'Are you okay?' It was becoming habitual, even in the last two days she'd been home. 'Are you okay?' before bed, after dinner, after she took her showers. When she woke up, when she entered the room.

"I'm good. Getting back to, y'know, life. And being me. It's- it's been awhile." She felt a prickling in her eyes, a heaviness in her gut. Even as she reassured her sister that it was ok, it really wasn't. She had half a desire to go crazy, rend her garments and pull her hair out. No it wasn't okay; no she didn't feel better. No, I'm not glad you brought me back from being peaceful, and happy, and okay. None of this was okay.

"Giles is coming back. I know you'll be happy to see him." Buffy looked up at this. Giles. Good old dusty, tweed-suit Giles. Giles, who continuously wiped his glasses and 'hrrmm-hrrmmed' at any inappropriate joke. Yes, she would be happy to see Giles.

"That's good. I mean great. I can't wait to see him." She forced a half-smile, as her eyes drifted to the house. "Xander's here."

Dawn turned her head, looking up at the house. A moment later the door opened, and Xander's head poked out. He smiled, that good ole' goofy Xander smile, and waved.

"Hey Buff! How's it going?" Buffy grimaced, and waved back. "Hey Dawnie let's go! We're gonna be late."

Dawn rose up, leaning over to kiss Buffy quickly on the cheek. "You'll be here when I get home?"

Fresh-faced and hopeful. That's what Dawn was. Not even her death and subsequent revival had dampened her eagerness. Buffy quirked the edges of her mouth up into a smile.

"Yeah, have fun at school."

What had she done before, during the long daylight hours? She'd gone to school, perhaps, though more often not due to her mother's illness. She'd hung out at the beach, shopped sometimes.

The house was empty now. She walked up and down the stairs, took in the changes Willow and Tara had made with her mothers' room. She felt a slight proprietary twinge, that this should have been her room after her mother's death. Her own room was not much changed, except for a thick coat of dust. She imagined nobody here had wanted to venture into her room while she was gone.

But it was only eight o'clock in the morning. Willow and Tara had left early for classes, Dawn was maybe just into her second class of the day, Xander was at work and Buffy didn't much want to visit Anya at the Magic Box. So she settled onto the couch, tried to focus on the early morning cartoons that were almost over. Yet her legs were restless, and she felt crowded in the empty house.

Rising to her feet, she searched out her shoes and left the house.

Even in the daylight, her feet wended their way towards the cemetery. Her mind drifted, and when she came to she blinked at her surroundings. The gravestones and tombs looked peaceful now, in the light of day. There were no tall shadows disgorging demons, no fresh graves churning with fledgling vampires. Instead there were birds, and squirrels racing across the tombs. It all seemed so fresh, and pure. Unadultered. Buffy realized she couldn't remember the last time she'd walked through a graveyard during the day.

She spotted Spike's crypt, a little way off. She hesitated, her steps leading her in the opposite direction. Looking about her, as if to see someone she knew waving at her, she turned back towards the crypt and slowly made her way to the thick stone door.

_Big, placid eyes looked up at him. Her smiling lips invited him in and he dipped his mouth to hers. Sweet Buffy scent wafting up to him from her hair, her golden-tan skin. His pale hands skimmed her shoulders, reaching up for her face as he kissed her slowly, sweetly. Buffy Buffy Buffy… She encompassed him, her arms circling him as she pulled him in close to her. Their bodies were moving together, a deep, slow, rocking movement as he covered her._

"_Spike…" Her voice, so serene and soft. He'd never head her talk like this, least of all to him, and it made him vibrate… "Spike…"_

He awoke with a sudden jerk, to see her perched on the edge of the bed, knees drawn to her chin. She didn't take any notice of him, staring blankly at the opposite wall, but she spoke up suddenly.

"What did you mean, when you said you didn't think I was happy here?" Her voice was soft, quiet, but not the intimate whisper he'd imagined in his dream. Bunching the sheets around his waist, he sat forward and stared hard at her.

"Not sure I catch your meaning, love." She turned to him then, those big wide eyes that had never looked as soft and sad as they did now.

"I'm not." Her eyes were glistening again, and he frowned. She burid her face between her drawn-up knees, and took a deep ragged breath. "I keep having these dreams… except they're more like nightmares, and I'm back again, back… in the box, the coffin. And I have to crawl out again… But it seems I never get out, I just keep fighting and never get out…"

Spike had a hard time believing what was right in front of him. Thick, liquid drops were falling from her eyes, her voice was hitching and her shoulders were trembling. His heart nearly broke then, and he sat up a bit more.

"C'mere, love." He opened his arms for her, and she stared blankly at him for a moment too long. He almost feared she would spurn him, would crawl off his bed and throw something, call him names and storm out in that holier-than-thou way of hers. But she didn't; instead she hung her head and crawled across the big bed to him, let him take her in his arms.

_She'll kill me for this later, when she's better._

She was stiff in his arms, arms still held close around herself, but his arms were soothing her, petting her gently, allowing her to relax against him. Her eyes were closed, face buried against his chest. As he held her, she began to cry softly, tiny mewing cries that were weak, but grew heavier, stronger. His bare chest was hot and sticky from her fevered body and hot tears, but he shifted her closer as she clung to his neck and cried.

When she'd finished her cry, she seemed content to lie against him, arms still looped around his neck. They sat in the quiet, and neither seemed inclined towards conversation. He'd almost dozed off before he heard her voice speak up, trembling and on the verge of hysterical sobs.

"They think they brought me back from hell."

This confused Spike, but he said nothing, just rubbed a hand across her back. He tried a few words in his mind, but found no appropriate answer and decided to stay silent. Gently, she pulled away, came to sit on the bed across from him, legs crossed. She wiped her hands across her wet eyes, and looked up at him.

"They think they brought me back from hell, but they didn't. I- I don't know where I… but it wasn't hell. I was happy, I was okay then. Not now, though. I don't think I'll ever be okay again…" She drew in a deep breath, steadying herself as she looked up into his eyes. He was staring at her, head cocked, quizzical expression in his eyes. General confusion marked his face as he watched her intently.

"I think I was in heaven."

Her eyes were downcast as she said this, but they rose up instantly to meet his. At once, his own expression dropped, and an overwhelming feeling of grief and pity overtook him. She was crying again, tears slipping silently over her face as he took her into his arms again, cradling her against his shoulder. He gripped her tight, nearly refusing to let go as she finished her crying.

"Buffy, love, I'm so sorry for you pet." His own voice was full of sadness for her. "Those bloody friends of yours are idiots, bringing you back… should've known you wouldn't be in hell. You're the bloody Slayer…"

She let out a short, harsh laugh. "Spike, I know I'm all messed up right now, I mean I'm the standing definition of messed up, but you? What happened to you while I was gone? Never knew you to be so nice."

"Yeh, and I'm not nice. Just care for you is all. Can't help it." He looked at her sheepishly now, and she imagined he would've blushed if he could. But he met her eyes and smiled, "God 'n' the Devil both know I've tried."

When she woke up again, it was alone in Spike's crypt. She'd never seen the bottom portion of the crypt done up so nice. The bed was a giant four-poster, with silk drapings and sheets and soft feather pillows. Rolls of Persian carpet lay over the stone floor, and everywhere where flickering tapers. She looked around for him, and deciding he'd left gathered her shoes and set off.

She made her way through the darkened cemetery back home. The house itself was empty, and Dawn had left a note that she'd gone to Janice's for the night. Willow and Tara were also gone, leaving a message that they were at the Magic Box, and would Buffy come, too, as soon as she got home?

Another quarter mile walk and she pushed through the doors, the little bell above the door chiming in her arrival. At once her gaze found Giles, and she was suddenly rushing forward, sailing into his open arms. He grabbed her tight, squeezing her as if reaffirming her existence.

"Oh my god, Giles, I missed you." She felt the tears well up for the five-hundredth and forty-eighth time that day, but she suppressed them as she squeezed Giles even harder.

"Buffy, dear God, it's good to see you again." He'd stepped back, was wiping his glasses, and Buffy stepped back, too. She spotted, behind Giles, a fair-haired girl sitting at the round research table. She looked from her to Giles, awaiting an explanation.

"Oh, oh yes. I'd nearly forgotten. Buffy, Adia. Adia, Buffy." Buffy waved politely at the girl, who timidly followed suit. "Buffy, Adia was the Slayer called shortly after your death this summer. I've brought her back with me for her formal training."

"So you're working for the Council again?" Buffy crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow to her Watcher.

"Ah, well, yes. They've asked me back, conditional upon the fact that they must provide all active Slayers with an ample salary."

"Salary?" Buffy felt a smile rise to her lips. Yesterday, she had sat with Willow and Xander and Anya and reviewed months of past-due bills, lagging insurance payments. Giles smiled, hands tucked in his pockets.

"Yes, yes. I'll have your first check ready for you tomorrow. For now I have some things to speak to Anya about." He stepped away, after a second quick hug, and gestured for Anya. At once Xander bounded over, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

"Hey Buff, sorry I couldn't talk a bit more to you earlier. Was fighting traffic all the way to the site." He guided her across to the table, sat next to her. "But how're you? Doin' okay?" Buffy winced a little bit at this precursory greeting, but smiled and nodded.

"Not feeling a hundred and ten percent yet, but I'm getting there." Xander smiled and nodded, turned to Willow who was flipping through some ancient looking text next to him. The red head looked across at her, smiled, looked back down at her book.

Adia was staring straight at Buffy as she turned to face the junior Slayer. She was fair-skinned, fair-haired. Her white-blond eyebrows were nearly nonexistent, her blue eyes wide and innocent. She smiled warmly at Buffy, raising a hand.

"Hi!" She was so fresh-faced, it almost hurt. Buffy could hardly believe her to be more than fifteen or sixteen, and she knew she wouldn't see many more birthdays after that. But she smiled politely, questioned her about her family, which lived in the northeast, near Canada. She said she'd never thought vampires and demons existed until Mr. Robinson from the Council had fetched her from her home, taken her through the graveyards, shown her what kind of power she possessed.

"Where is he now? I mean, shouldn't you be with him now, instead of with Giles?" Buffy felt the sharpness in her voice, and instantly bit her tongue for it. She felt especially bad as Adia's face fell and her brow furrowed.

"He died."

"Oh." They sat in silence for the next couple of minutes before Buffy excused herself. Tapping Giles on the shoulder, she hugged him goodbye, explaining that she'd better get started on slaying, that she was surprised the place hadn't been run-through during her absence.

"Very well," He smiled at her, touching her shoulder gently. "And Buffy, I just want to let you know, we're all very glad your back." Buffy looked around to see all her friends staring at her, half smiles on their faces, all love and warm feelings.

"Yeah, thanks." She tried to smile, failed miserably, and turned for the door.


	3. Building A Mystery

**Fumbling Towards Ecstasy**

**Lovesbitch91**

**Summary: Spuffy. Up to NC-17. A new take on Season Six, in which Buffy's not so mean and there's a new Slayer coming to town....**

**Disclaimer: Joss owns all. Also, all lyrics and chapter titles come from Sarah McLachlan.**

**A/N: Did you like it? Not like it? Leave me a review- they're always welcome**

**Chapter Three: Building a Mystery**

"_**You come out at night; that's when the energy comes**_

_**And the Dark Side's light, and the vampires roam**_

_**You strut your rasta wear, and your suicide pose **_

_**And a cross from a faith that died before Jesus came**_

_**You're building a mystery"**_

Twice in a day was starting to become a habit, but once again she found herself pushing open the door to Spike's crypt. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the hundreds of lit candles, all flickering in the semi-darkness.

"Spike?" she called his name softly, looking around the crypt. Besides the candles, the place was nearly empty. A plain stone sarcophagus served as a bar, where half empty tumblers of blood clotted, and empty bottles of Jack glowed amber in the candle light. To the right there was a mini fridge humming softly, a tiny black and white television and tattered recliner. All the creature comforts a vampire could wish for.

The first floor was deserted, that was plain in the glowing light, so she shuffled along the floor searching for the little trap door and lowering herself down once she'd hefted it open.

Downstairs glowed brighter, with candelabras and torches along the wall. The bed was empty, a mass of satin sheets all in disarray. Looking around, it was plain that Spike wasn't present, though he must've come by sometime during the night to light the thousands of flickering votives.

Supposing he must've gone on a cigarette run, she lay across the bed, curled into a ball and let her eyes drift shut.

It had begun to sprinkle as he reached the last cemetery, and to pour by the time he'd left, making his way back towards his crypt in the neighboring graveyard. The rain felt refreshing against his face, washing away the dust and grime from the night's patrol. After Buffy had been brought back, Spike had automatically taken sole responsibility for making the rounds every night, sweeping the five major cemeteries and stalking the alleyways.

Since Buffy's return he'd been astounded by the change that had overcome her. She no longer looked at him as if he were less than her, but as an equal. Fuck, she'd cried in his arms the other night, held onto him with her warm little hands, her feverish body pressed close to him- he'd nearly lost himself right then and there. And she'd shared with him what she couldn't bear to tell her dearest friends, that she'd been to Heaven and was in Hell here.

Heaven. He'd not wondered about it since he'd been a boy, attending church on Sundays with his mother and praying for his immortal soul. Which, granted, was lost now, since the night in the alleyway with Drusilla. But still, he wondered. Did she see Joyce? He remembered her fondly even now, how she'd invited him in, without fear. She was the first one to defend him to Buffy – the only one, really. She'd made him cocoa with the little marshmallows and sat and chatted with him in her own kitchen.

But Buffy - that golden, magical girl - had seen Heaven. He entertained ideas of her floating on clouds, wings sprouting from her shoulders, all majestic wonder and pure goodness. And her stupid bloody friends had torn her from it, ripped her out and left her six feet under in her own coffin.

He was close now, enough to smell her, hear her heart thumping slowly in sleep. He pushed the door open silently, greeted by the winking candles he'd lit earlier. Most had burned out, leaving long shadows across the walls. He could feel her, down below, and as he made his way across the floor, he blew out the candles one by one.

She opened her eyes to find a pair of crystal blue eyes inches from her own, his finger brushing along her cheek. He had a quiet, contemplative look on his face, and he smiled softly when he met her eyes.

"S'pose it's no good asking how you're doin'."

She smiled at this, even laughed a bit on the inside. Pulling away slowly, she sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

"I dunno; feeling pretty okay for being twice dead." She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "Isn't there something about the third time being the charm? Something to look forward to, I suppose."

At once Spike's brow furrowed and he shook his head. "Don't say that." His voice was soft, and Buffy heard the pleading undertones of his request. She shook her head, and in an instance she was up and at the far side of the room. Spike straightened up, turning to face her. Her arms were crossed in that habitual gesture he'd come to recognize as guarded, and she was half turned away from him.

"Not sure why I came by. Except Giles came back, with the new Slayer, and there was a huge Scooby confab going on, and…" Spike stopped her midsentence, turning to look at her with a quizzical expression.

"New Slayer? Since when?"

"I would guess since I died. Again."

"So that makes three." Spike held up three fingers, ticking them off, "You, Faith, and the new girl. Huh."

"Adia. Seems eager, but she's young. And I can't help but to see death when I look at her. I mean, Slayers aren't known for their long lifetimes." She'd come to stand across from him, leaning against the bed casually.

"You've made it six, seven years," he pointed out, lighting a cigarette.

"I also should've been dead four years ago. The Master? Xander saved me then, sans magical reincarnation." She grew somber then, shuffling her feet and looking at the ground. "It makes me sad, regretful. I've always wished I could be normal. Y'know, normal life, normal friends. Maybe a normal husband in a normal city with normal kids. I'm starting to think it's just wishful thinking. How can I be normal, and the Slayer, too?"

"Then again, there's two other Slayers now. Don't see why you can't retire. You've made it this far; don't they have a pension plan? Y'know, a retirement home in sunny Florida or some bollocks?"

Buffy smiled at this, even uncrossed her arms. They had ended up side by side on the bed somehow, and she was looking at him as if she were happy, like she enjoyed his company, and enjoyed being here with him. Overcome, he grabbed her head in his hands, forced her eyes to his.

"Buffy, nothing will happen to you, ever again. You're back now; and no, it's not all sunshine and puppies but it will get better." He stroked her cheek, moved a stray hair from her eyes. They were wide and moist, but she kept her watery gaze fixed on him. "You are going to grow old and die happy, I promise you."

Her hands were around his neck now, and she was leaning closer until all he saw were her hazel green eyes, and then she was kissing him. Really, really kissing him. This wasn't her pretending to be the Bot, there was no spell. She was kissing him because she wanted it, and his whole body hummed as he pulled her closer. Her hands were in his hair, and they were tumbling back across the bed, just kissing, holding each other close and pressing even closer. Buffy-smell, Buffy-taste, Buffy Buffy Buffy.

"God, Buffy…" he drew her forward, kissed her full on the mouth. She moaned softly into his mouth, peppering his mouth with quick, fervent kisses. And a moment later she was gone. Spike took only a moment to recover from her absence, sat up to see her worrying her lip with her upper teeth.

His mouth parted, preparing to pose some question or statement – he wasn't sure what he would be able to say in this moment – but she had pressed a finger to his lips, and her eyes, at once clear and yet hazed, searched his.

"Don't say anything Spike. I- I need this. Everything else right now is too hard and cruel. But you… you don't expect anything of me, do you? Not to be happy, or sad, or responsible, or anything like that." Spike watched her think, grasping at the feelings she tried to set to words. Her brow was furrowed, and there were fresh tears standing in her eyes. "And I can't promise anything beyond tonight, whether it's me, or you, or us. But right now? Right this second? I just need you not to be snarky or… or sarcastic. Or anything else but what you've been to me these last few days."

"Buffy, love, if we do this now… there's no coming back, yeh?" If he had a heart, it would have burst by now, he was sure. She was here, all golden lightness in his arms, his bed. And she wanted him, just him. He met her eyes again, and she leaned forward to kiss him gently.

"I know."


	4. Possesion

**centerFumbling Towards Ecstasy**

**Lovesbitch25/center**

**centerChapter Four: Possesion/center**

_**centeri"And I will be the one to hold you down,**_

_**Kiss you so hard; I'll take your breath away**_

_**And after I wipe away your tears**_

_**Just close your eyes dear… "/i/center**_

Sex had never been this good. She'd had Angel as a young girl, so innocent and trusting, and he'd been good to her; kissed her nice and slow at first, guiding her under him as he penetrated her with slow, deep strokes. Parker, on the other hand, had been an idiot, huffing and puffing for twenty minutes before collapsing on her, out of breath, all sweaty flesh and dead weight. Riley had been so… so militarily uniform in his fucking. Their sex life seemed to follow a set routine: ten minutes of heavy kissing and petting followed by a quick blowjob and thirty minutes of missionary.

With Spike she was suddenly learning layers of sexual ecstasy that she'd never known existed.

Like right now; her legs were spread, knees hitched over his shoulders, and his mouth was buried in her sopping pussy, pink tongue darting into her folds and licking her slit from top to bottom. Her entire body shuddered as the firm point of his tongue circled her clit, and two fingers pushed themselves up into her, gently rubbing that secret spot on her inner wall. Her eyes fell closed as she moaned aloud, bucking her hips up to meet his mouth.

"Pretty Buffy, pretty little Buffy-quim all ripe and juicy," he murmured softly, pressing endearments into her skin, words that seemed to sink into her and stir her, make her wetter and hungrier for more. One hand had found her breast and was gently rubbing soft circles around her nipple as the other withdrew from her silken folds. In an instant, his tongue drove deep into her, lifting her hips up from the bed, and she spasmed beneath him, crying out.

"Spike, Spike, Spike…" Her hands were curling into his hair, pulling him up to her. He nestled himself between her, his drooling erection throbbing against her splayed pussy, mouth gently kissing her already swollen lips. "Come into me now, Spike. I need you." Her gentle insistence nearly drove him over the brink as he lifted her ankles higher to rest on his shoulders.

"Gonna make it better, pretty Buffy, sweet darling Buffy." And then he was filling her up, so deep she thought she could feel him pounding against her own heart, and he was kissing her and holding her and everything was okay. She was fucking Spike, this fierce evil thing, but no one else could give her this. This just might make her forget…

When it was over they lay in quiet stillness. Her head rested on his shoulder, arms circling his hips. His hand brushed absently through her tangled hair. From time to time she lifted her head to accept a slow, lingering kiss from him.

"What's happened to us, that this suddenly doesn't seem so wrong?" she asked quietly, flicking her thumb back and forth against his pale nipple.

"Dunno. 'Spect we're not so much different from each other, yeh? Both creatures of the night. Both crawled from our own early grave." He gave her a sad smile, kissing both corners of her mouth. "But we'll be okay, love. You'll get back into the hang of things soon enough. Have your friends and your sister and your Watcher."

"And you," Buffy spoke up softly. Startled, Spike looked down at her.

"I'll be okay. 'Course I'll stick around when you need me, bug the bleedin' hell outta you when you don't."

"It wasn't a question, Spike. I mean that I'll have you." She sat up, facing him full-on, worry crossing her features. "Won't I?"

She couldn't be serious… Spike hadn't dared to hope this would be more than a one night thing, some good sexual healing to screw her back into the world before they took up where they'd been before Glory and Buffy's jump from the tower. He'd never hoped to expect her to still want him afterwards, to keep him around as the latest addition to the Scooby Gang.

"Thought this was just for tonight, love? No promises beyond it, and all?" He was studying her intently, watching her expression for any clues as to her intentions.

"Spike, I don't wanna give you up yet. Not after the hell I'm going through, not after just tonight, not so soon." She took his hands in her, held them close to her chest as she leaned in close to him. "You're the only one I can stand to be around right now. And I need you."

Spike was seized by the sudden urge to gather her up and kiss her; and he did, sweeping her in to him and dashing kisses across her face. She giggled, turning his mouth to hers and allowing him to bestow his kisses.

"Then I shall stay, Mistress Buffy," he whispered into her ear, "And love you forever, and keep you company for as long as you want me."

"Forever and ever and ever, then," she whispered dreamily, winding her arms around his neck. "But for now I think I should go home." Her face darkened at this, and she slid off the bed. She darted around the room, throwing on clothes as she found them. "I expect they'll have a search party for me already."

center******/center

Dawn was waiting up for her when she finally threw open the front door. She seemed on the verge of sleep, head lolling back against the couch cushions, eyes nearly closed. Buffy kicked her shoes off as she sat next to her, looking over towards her sister.

"You weren't waiting up for me, were you?" she asked. Dawn blinked sleepily at her.

"Was gonna go to bed about three hours ago. Ended up not wanting to move." Dawn sat up straighter, yawning widely as she stretched her arms out. "How was patrol?"

"Fine," she answered quickly. "School?"

"It was school. Boring times fifty-five minutes times seven periods." Dawn stood up, turning to her older sister. She bent over in for a hug, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "But I'm glad you're home now."

_**centeri"Would I spend forever here**_

_**And not be satisfied?"/i/center**_


	5. Adia

**A/N: After years of confusion, I finally looked up the meaning of Adia. Apparently it's a female name meaning "God's Gift." Hopefully that cleared something up for any of you other Sarah McLachlan fans.**

**Fumbling Towards Ecstasy**

**Lovesbitch91**

**Chapter Five: Adia**

"**Cause we are born innocent**

**Believe me, Adia, we are still innocent **

**It's easy we all falter, it doesn't matter"**

She was given her own room in the apartment overlooking the bluffs. It was plain, with just a bed and dresser, but Mr. Giles said he would take her shopping for clothes and all sorts of girly things she would need. For now she felt a bit lonely, and out of place. Downstairs the other Slayer, Buffy, and her friends were laughing and talking with Mr. Giles. Of course they'd all been so nice to her, joked with her and asked her about back home. But she knew they were keeping their distance, as if they were afraid to become too attached.

Adia wasn't stupid. She knew Slayers usually died early and young. They didn't marry and have children and grand-children. She'd probably die in some cemetery at the hands of a vampire. But she knew, too, that she'd been Chosen. To fight against the forces of darkness, yadayadayada. She had a chance to make a difference in the world, to… God, she didn't want to die.

She turned towards the bed, crawling face first onto the mattress. Maybe if she willed it hard enough, she could simply sink down into its downy softness and never ever wake up.

"I start Adia's formal training this week, Buffy, and I was hoping you might let us accompany you on patrol." Giles stirred his teacup, the aromatic steam rising off the surface. Buffy was wedged between Xander and Dawn on the tiny couch, clutching her own teacup.

"Sounds good. You think she's up to it?"

Giles raised his eyes to the roof in response, gave his head a slight shake. "She'll have to be, won't she? Dear Lord, I don't understand how at my age I'm still considered an eligible Watcher."

"So when do we get paid?" Dawn piped up, receiving arched eyebrows all around. "I meant Buffy. When does Buffy get paid?"

"Ah, that reminds me…" Giles felt his inner pockets before retrieving a plain white envelope. "I believe this will do a great amount of good at the moment, hmm? Full copper repipe, I believe it was?" Buffy blushed, taking the check.

"It was leaking…" she offered in her own defense.

"And then it was gushing," Dawn pointed out, craning her head over to glimpse the check. Buffy peeked a quick glance, before doing a full double-take.

"Giles… you can't be serious…" Amazement was dawning across her face as her eyes went wide, taking in the zeroes and the commas and the zeroes after that.

"It is enough?"

"Giles, this is way more than enough. This is enough times a gazillion." Buffy threw herself off the couch and bent to wrap both arms around her Watcher. "Thank you so much Giles."

"Yes, well, I believe you should be receiving those checks near the end of every month. You won't have to worry about anything else, Buffy. The Council has come around to seeing things our way, and they'll be taking care of the both of us for a long time to come."

"Do you think Buffy seems off?"

"What do you mean honey?" The two witches lay in bed that night, wrapped up together and drowsy with oncoming sleep. Willow's head rested on Tara's shoulder, and the blonde ran a hand absently through Willow's loose hair.

"I mean that… she doesn't seem happy. That we brought her back. She's always disappearing on patrol and Goddess knows what else."

"You're worried she's not grateful? Because she hasn't told you thanks?" Tara seemed befuddled, her brows knit together.

"Is that stupid of me?" Willow lifted her head, looking up at Tara with the slight frowning crease between her brows. "It's selfish, isn't it? I guess she's just not ready to get over what she's been through. If she's not ready then I shouldn't push her and be upset if she doesn't, y'know, kiss my feet for what I did." She blushed, and Tara smiled at her, dipping her head for a quick kiss.

"You were amazing that night Willow. Just give Buffy a little time to come around."

"Yeah, of course your right. You're always right." Willow snuggled closer, inhaling the sweet smell of Tara, all their warm limbs holding onto one another as they drifted into sleep. Of course it would be alright, it was always okay… Buffy would come around to being happy, getting over all the tortures she'd experienced… She just needed time…

She felt like she couldn't breathe.

Her lungs were heavy and constricted, her arms shaking. Dry sobs choked her, the lump in her throat becoming painful as she tried not to burst into uncontrollable sobs. Willow and Tara where just in the other room, and Dawn was across the hall, all asleep and snug and happy.

She hated it. Hated life, hated them. She turned over, burying her face in the pillow and biting into it as she sobbed quietly. Every time she closed her eyes she saw her standing before her, all glow-y and happy.

"_Buffy, honey, I've missed you so much."_

None of them knew the peace and quietude of that other place. It had been all warmth and fulfillment. There hadn't been worries, or fears or longings other than the one, to remain right where she was, upon her own little Cloud Nine of Happiness.

"_We'll be here, now, forever. I'm so sorry you died, but you're here now… no more worries or slaying. No more danger. Just peace…"_

Everything here was so hard, cold. The sun was too bright, the night too dark. All the sounds hurt her ears, and even her flesh crawled and panicked her. The world seemed worse than Hell, all noise and fighting and unhappiness. Her own selfish friends, nagging sister… it was too much.

And the only one she could stand to be around was Spike. She'd never know how she got to the point that she did last night, wrapped up in his arms, but the ecstasy of it took her away from everything else, made life bearable. Just his touch made her hum, his words could make her smile, make her cry in relief that at least she had him.

Which seemed the most fucked up thing, as far as being back on earth. She could touch the loathing and hatred she'd had of him before, but when she'd returned he'd seemed something more. He took her presence with acceptance and some ecstatic feeling beyond mere happiness. When he'd held her hands, that first night, she'd recognized something in him she'd never known before – the capability to love, something she'd dismissed as impossible before. And a serene acceptance and dedication to her, something he'd die to prove, that he would never turn away, never leave her.

She wiped her eyes, turning over in the bed. A tiny _scritter-scratter_ noise made her turn her head to the window. Speak of the Devil. She rose up on wobbly legs, fumbled for a moment with the latch.

"Spike." She stepped back to let him pass through. He eyed her silently as he slipped in, and in a moment she'd thrown herself in his arms. "Stay here with me, I can't sleep, can't think except when you're here…"

So he crawled with her into her little virgin bed, and she'd thrown her arms around him and snuggled her face into his chest. She was all warmth and Buffy-smell as she finally drifted to sleep, kissing his cheek softly once or twice first.

He thought he might burst into flames at any moment, her warmth burning all around him. The mere possibility that this could really be happening set him on edge.

He'd spent the better portion of the night chain-smoking beneath her window, listening to her stifled sobs. He'd ached to make his way up to her window, but feared whether she'd accept him. So he'd waited for the sobs to cease before scaling the wall to her window, and of course she'd noticed him the moment he touched down onto the roof, and had opened the window.

She'd let him in, trusted him to hold her while she slept, albeit fitfully. Her little brow creased, and she moaned, kicking out at him.

"Bloody hell!" He'd not meant to rouse her, but she was looking up at him now and seemed startled for a moment before breaking into sobs. He gathered her close, whispered quietly into her ear.

"S'all right love, just a dream…" She rested her forehead against his neck, sighing quietly.

"I was thinking earlier… about how this all happened."

"What's that, pet?"

"Us." He looked down at her, his face blank of emotion. She was still looking downwards, eyes averted.

"And?"

Her eyes were so clear when she looked up at him, and she smiled that slow, sad smile she'd recently attained.

"I don't know. It seems I've come so far since high school. Willow and Xander, too. Back then we were all so…innocent. Now look at us- we're a mess. Willow's bringing people back from the dead, I'm sleeping with a vampire, again, and Xander's marrying a demon."

"What's that?" Spike perked up, and Buffy shook her head.

"Ex-demon. Anya? Yeah, they told us tonight."

"Love, if there's one thing I'm privileged enough to say, is that you are more innocent than you know."

Adia twisted her ponytail between her fingers nervously, her palms sweaty as she gripped the wooden stake in her free hand. She followed silently behind Buffy and Mr. Giles with her eyes fixed permanently to the ground before her, eyes peeled for the small stones she'd tripped twice over earlier. Mr. Giles had told her this would be the beginning of her formal training and that she was lucky to have someone as experienced and long-lived as Buffy helping her.

The cemetery was silent, and spooky. So many shadows, Adia noticed as she looked up, that could be hiding any assortment of monsters. She'd never seen a real vampire up close, only hand-drawn pictures and badly lit photographs, but she imagined them terrible monsters with glowing eyes and drooling fangs, and it gave her shudders.

A sudden dull prickling on the back of her neck was immediately followed by a swift collision with the older Slayer, who had stilled.

"They're here." Her voice was soft, the whites of her eyes flashing in the dark as she spun around and tossed Giles a stake. Her eyes met Adia's, and she flashed a reassuring smile. "It'll be fine. Just go with instinct, and don't let them near your neck."

Almost instantly Buffy spun into a roundhouse kick, knocking a hefty vampire twenty feet back. Adia had never seen him coming, just his bewildered expression as he collided with a crumbling headstone that gave way beneath him. She froze, unable to move as she watched Buffy move forward and stake him, even as another neared her from behind. But Buffy had turned, caught his arm and flipped him over, stabbing the stake into his chest.

A third vampire was making his way towards Adia, and she backed away nervously. As she raised the stake up, he laughed and lunged. Adia screamed, turning her face away from his glistening mouth, and punched out with her fist. It struck him soundly on his jaw, and he stumbled back a few paces. She dove forward then, slamming the stake into his chest.

And missed. Wincing with pain, but grinning wildly, the vampire whipped his arm out and caught her around the waist. She was struggling, to get away, kicking out, but he'd pinned her arms to her side.

_This is it. This is where I die._

The thought made her helpless, and her efforts weakened. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Buffy spinning and kicking as she faced off two vampires. Mr. Giles was in the midst of a skirmish with what looked like a freshly risen vampire. Neither noticed her, and she could feel the cold breath on her neck. Some sordid words came from his lips, but she couldn't catch them. Weird; last words she'd ever hear and she couldn't remember them. She felt the cool points of his fangs on her throat and then…

He let her go. He was standing above her, and she could feel the tears cold on her face, her heart pounding. She let out a small whimper, scrambling backwards as he stepped forwards. But he simply held out a hand to help her up. She glanced around wildly for Mr. Giles and Buffy, and saw them dusting themselves off, making their way towards her.

"Did you have to scare her so much?" Buffy's mouth was a stern line across her face, but her eyes were smiling. Giles was wiping his glasses, then putting them back on and peering at the vampire.

"Very nice, the ambush idea. Except how were you so sure she'd miss?" Adia was glancing wildly between the three- Buffy, Mr. Giles and the blonde haired vampire, Spike.

"Wasn't. But I had a feeling." Spike smiled down at her, and she quickly picked herself off the ground.

"But you're a vampire!" Her voice was weak, and she tried to shake it off, but her heart was still pounding loudly in her ears, and she felt likely to faint.

"Spike's on our side," Buffy spoke up, moving between the two. "He works with us, and he doesn't kill people anymore."

"He almost killed me!" Adia was angry. They'd tricked her! She was so scared; she'd really thought she was going to die. "Th-that's bullshit! He was that close-!"

Buffy looked at her mildly, shaking her head.

"We were trying to get the scared part out of you first, before you met up with a real vamp. One that would have really killed you." Giles was speaking now, in that level voice of his that was meant to reassure

"Well, it didn't work 'cause I'm still scared half to death! And I would have been dead if it were a real vampire!"

"Oi! What am I? A teddy bear? Big Bad here!" Spike had interjected, flinging his hands upwards.

"I'd go more with neutered puppy," Buffy smiled at him, though he scowled and lit a cigarette. Buffy turned again to Adia.

"Look, next time at least you'll know what to expect. And hopefully you won't lock up with fear. I mean, you did almost stake him. I don't think I've come that close in years."

"I was playing easy," Spike had started to saunter off. "But not next time pet; not all the vamps and monsters'll let you go so easy next time."

Buffy and Giles watched him disappear, before Buffy turned back to Giles.

"Look, I'm beat. Maybe you guys should call it quits for the night? We'll meet up again another night, patrol for real vampires."

"Yes, Wednesday then? Tomorrow we plan on training down at the Magic Box, if you'd care to join us." Adia was gathering her discarded stakes, twisting them between her fingers. Neither noticed her, and she felt overcome with shame.

He hadn't even been trying. She'd frozen up, and he'd beaten her so easily without even trying. But she could do better! She knew she could. All those hours training, practicing kicks and punches on dummies, she could take on a real vamp, if she didn't lock up with fear… she knew she could!

Mr. Giles was asleep. She could hear his gentle snoring through the crack of his bedroom door, and she quietly tiptoed down the hall, towards the front door. She'd slipped into her sneakers, thrown a couple stakes into her waistband and kept a firm clutch on a third in her hand. She'd even slipped a dagger into her shoe, just in case. She was going to kill her first vampire tonight.

The graveyard didn't seem so bad the second time around. Sure, all the sounds and shadows threw a general creepiness over the place, but it was also peaceful in a way. Strolling through the headstones, she caught sight of the first one. It was just risen, brushing away clods of dirt. She bristled, tightening her grip on the stake.

"Welcome back." Her voice startled her, so sure and cocky, coming out of her own mouth.

"Who're you?" It growled between its distended fangs, yellow eyes flashing.

"Adia. The Vampire Slayer."

When the vampire threw herself at her, she felt a thrill of excitement. She parried his blows, landing a sturdy kick to the gut. He tumbled backwards, but caught himself against his own headstone. At once he was upon her, his fists raining down on her, and she was struggling again. His speed and agility outmatched hers, and she began to panic. Scrambling, she thrust the stake towards his chest, where it stuck into his shoulder. He ripped it out with a growl, tossing it away as she reached for a second one. But by the time she'd pulled it from her waist, he'd thrown her into a tree, backhanding her across the face. She cried out, whimpering in pain as she crumbled to the ground.

His hands reached for her shoulders, dragging her upwards against the tree. Her head lolled backwards on her neck, her eyes dizzy and unfocused. She could feel him, pressing her between his hard body and the tree as he lowered his mouth to her neck. In another second she felt them- two pinpoints of heat breaking into her, pulling hard as she swooned.

_This is what it's like? To die…_

She couldn't think, only feel as her body grew weaker. There were stars in her eyes, and she felt as if she were falling…

And then a thick cloud of dust materialized around her and she choked, coughing on the dry, acrid stuff. Two hands were lifting her up, and through her blurry vision she could flashes of blonde hair and pale faces. And then it all went dark.

"Dear God, what happened?" Giles was wearing his nightrobe, fastening the belt of it and reaching for his glasses. "Come in, come in. Set her there on the sofa. I'll grab the first aid."

Buffy and Spike hefted the unconscious girl into the living room, draping her onto the couch, her head turned to expose the bloody gash on her throat. Buffy perched herself on the coffee table, holding her head in her hands.

Giles returned quickly, and worked silently for the first few minutes at cleaning the wound and bandaging it up with clean white gauze.

"What happened, exactly?" Giles seemed incredibly tired, Buffy thought, and at a loss for what to do. He was truly getting too old for all the Watcher-ing, caring for girls whose life expectancy seemed less than that of a goldfish.

"Me and Spike found her. She was up against a tree being fed on by a newborn." She was getting tired too, she realized, of all the incredible responsibility. "I staked him, brought her straight here. Thought it better than the hospital- too many questions, and you can only use the kitchen utensils excuse so many times."

"Right, well… I suppose she'll be better in the morning. Of course, we'll have to have a stern talk about this." He looked briefly over to Buffy, who eyed him carefully.

"'We' as in me, too?" She looked at him with pitiful eyes. "When did I sign up for the Big Sister program? I've already got one at home, so no thank you."

"Buffy, as the oldest Slayer alive, you're wisdom will be very helpful to her. She is obviously having trouble coping."

"Great. How about 'Die, sleep with a vampire, let that vampire go evil and kill your friends, die again and let your witchy best friend bring you back to life and then sleep with another vampire!'"

At once her eyes grew ten times larger, and her hands flew to her mouth. Spike let out a sort of sputtering noise, and Giles looked from one to the other with a bewildered look.

"Beg pardon?" He seemed at a lost for anything else to say.

"I'm sleeping with Spike." Buffy was looking at Giles with large pleading eyes, and Spike had risen and moved across to the door, ready to flee.

"I-I see." Giles fell into the nearest chair, deflated and confused.

"Please don't be mad at me."

He seemed mildly surprised at this and leant forward, taking hold of her hands. Obviously at a loss, for all the events of the night had worn him down, he was unable to muster even the slightest outrage.

"Buffy, I trust you unconditionally. You are a good girl, a wonderful Slayer. But I must question your judgment…"

"I know. Trust me, I know. And I have reasons, lots of good, solid reasonable reasons." She was chewing her lower lip, refusing to meet his eyes. She glanced over to the door, where Spike was still standing, half-turned away, with his hand on the knob. Their eyes met for a split second, and Giles read some inaudible communication pass between them. "But I just need for you to trust me, and to know that I'm not gonna make the same mistakes I did before. This isn't like Angel, and right now I really need this, ok? Can we let it stay at that?"

Giles let his eyes fall shut, rubbing his temples in silent contemplation. When he raised his eyes, it was to Spike that he spoke.

"You have been an invaluable asset, Spike, this past summer. You have shown the ability to choose from right to wrong, and to be surprisingly dependable." He rose to his feet, and Buffy watched Spike stiffen as Giles stood before him face to face. "Make one mistake with her, and I swear I will kill you." He seemed to be expecting some snarky comment from the vampire, watching his guarded expression carefully; but Spike merely nodded, muttered something under his breath and left.

"I should be leaving now, too." Buffy rose to her feet, meeting Giles halfway to the door. He regarded her carefully, and nodded. "Trust me with this, okay? And I'll call you tomorrow."

Their gazes shifted to the unconscious Slayer on the couch. Her blonde hair was fanned across the cushion, dark circles ringing her eyes.

"She'll be quite alright. You always were." Their eyes met again, and Buffy couldn't resist throwing her arms once more around Giles, inhaling the ever-present smell of tweed and cologne.

"Thank you. For everything."

Adia didn't look up when the blonde Slayer sat next to her. They were in the Magic Box, tucked away in a secluded corner. Buffy was turned towards her, her eyes boring into Adia's skull until she was forced to turn and face her.

"That was pretty dumb, what you did last night." She was straight-forward, her eyes slipping to Adia's heavily bandaged neck.

"Yeah, kinda figured that out already." She didn't want to meet her eyes, feel that superiority looming over her.

"Shit happens though, and you'll get over it." She reached over to pat Adia's shoulder, and she reluctantly met her eyes.

"I don't want to die early. I'm not even sixteen yet." She seemed so meek, Buffy thought. She herself had never been that way, and neither had Faith. They'd both been prepossessed with an innate confidence and surly cockiness that had won them both so many battles. Of course, Buffy too had suffered those pangs; that she would miss out on her entire life because of a slip-up, that she wouldn't live to see twenty.

"Yeah, sometimes you think that. And then you die. And you figure out 'Hey, it's going to happen anyway, yeah?' Might as well make it count. Die for something big, not some stupid fight, alone, which you never should have been apart of anyway."

"I know you're right. It was kinda obvious from the beginning. The beginning of me even thinking I could do it."

"You can do it. Or at least, you will do it. In time. After training. Lots and lots of boring training. Important, boring training."

The two Slayers sat in silence then, looking at the other and smiling when it struck them to. Buffy, looking at this young girl who was no older than Dawn, saw a little bit of herself. The little bit that wanted a normal life, and that was scared of dying. The bit that was always scared. But Adia would learn, just like Buffy did. She'd kill her fair share of evil, and then they'd kill her back. And another Slayer would be called…

All that innocence, wasted…

"**It's easy, we all falter**

**But does it matter?"**


	6. Elsewhere

**Fumbling Towards Ecstasy**

**Lovesbitch91**

**Chapter Six: Elsewhere**

"_**I know this love is passing time,**_

_**Passing through like liquid,**_

_**I'm drunk on my desires.**_

_**But I love the way you smile at me**_

_**I love the way your hands reach out and hold me near."**_

This is what she'd missed. How could she have forgotten? The thrill of it; the mounting excitement and explosive release. The ground whipped by beneath her feet, the trees a blur in her peripheral vision. In her mind and eyes and focus was one thing. The kill.

Her target was losing ground. She was close enough now to tackle him, and she did. Bearing all her strength down upon him, he fell beneath her. She tumbled over him, rising quickly to her feet and confronting him, fists raised.

There was no witty banter to fill the silence as he rose to meet her blows. As soon as he'd settled into his stance, she swung out at him with both fists. The blows met their marks, pushing him a step back.

This was good. This was her, unleashing all that pent up emotion and anger onto his body, pummeling him with her fists, and taking it back. Every move she made, he attempted to block, and retaliated with his own enhanced strength. And when she grew tired of the fight, she produced a stake and knocked him backwards with a quick blow. Stab, poof, done. The cloud of ash enveloped her for a moment, before it was carried away on the wind. Buffy straightened up, tucking the stake into the waistband of her jeans.

"An' so another one bites the dust." Spike had appeared out of nowhere, hovering near a drooping oak tree, ever-present cigarette lit between his lips. He took a last drag and flicked it away, the tiny glowing ember spinning off into the dark distance. "Feelin' better after that, luv?" She fell into step with him silently; hands in her pockets, content look on her face.

"Much better. With a side of okay and a dash of peachy." It was an experience, to be sure, seeing her all happy and bright, flying on that high that only comes with a good fistfight. There was no hint of sadness about her now, as she bounded along beside him.

But Spike knew it was still in her, that constant unhappiness that would rear up at a moment's notice and transform her into a weak, mewling puddle of tears and longing. But this was good, right now, and he'd savor it later on.

"Buffy! Hey, haven't been seeing you around lately!" Willow had caught her friend on the way out the door. She noted the dark circles beneath the Slayer's eyes and her general weariness. But Buffy smiled, closing the door and turning to confront the witch.

"Seems like it, huh? Guess it's been all the patrol - picking up the slack from the last couple months, when I was gone." For some reason Buffy can't explain, she feels jittery around the witch. Her blood fizzles at the proximity of her, even though Willow's all smiles and happiness. Like she doesn't know this girl, her best friend since forever. Like they're two strangers, making small talk, and she finds she's slightly scared of her. Perhaps it's the old resentment she's been feeling, the anger towards her friends rising up in her.

"It was hard, those few months. But you'd have been proud," Willow smiled, stepped closer to Buffy. For a moment, she seemed about to reach out to her, but then her hand stilled and a small frown crossed her brows. "We've been worried about you, Buff. You haven't been around much. And I know Dawn misses you; she never sees you between her school and your patrols. But I just wanted to make sure, let you know, that we missed you, and we know it's taking some time to get adjusted."

Buffy tried to force a smile, and it came eventually without the emotion. She nodded, let her eyes grow bright. "Of course. Time and adjusting and I'll be good as new. Just been needing to work out some glitches is all. But really, we should have a Scooby night. Just the gang. Maybe we could go dancing at the Bronze?"

What was she doing? She didn't want to go dancing, had no real desire to sit around with her friends and joke as if everything was sunshine and daisies, like she wasn't still ripped up inside. She just wanted to run away from them all, go hide somewhere they couldn't find her.

But Willow was smiling so brightly, obviously pleased that she'd wrung some response from her. She was proving to herself that she was right; right to bring Buffy back from the dead, right to stop her in the hall and ask her how life was going. Buffy didn't know this Willow anymore, didn't know Xander or Anya. Even the rare moments when she sat with Dawn on the couch were forced, unpleasant. And she realized how far she'd distanced herself from them in her own self-pity and anger.

"That sounds great, Buffy. I'll tell Xander and Anya and we'll go some night this week," Willow grinned and sprung forward to hug her. Buffy smiled back, hugged her tightly. Told her of course, it would be fun. They'd not hung out in a while, and it was past-due, for sure.

And then Buffy pulled away. Her hand itched to wrap itself around the door knob and wrench it open, run away from this red-head that looked like Willow, talked like Willow. But this wasn't her best friend, and she couldn't catch onto that feeling of trust and love she knew had existed before. So she smiled, said she had to go, that she had errands to run.

"Yeah, yeah of course Buffy! I'm about to go, too. Just wanted to see that you're okay." And then she was gone, and Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. As she looked towards the door Willow had just exited, a twisted feeling pervaded her gut.

What happened to her life, while she was gone? She used to be happy; she'd loved these people, connected with them. When she'd died, it had been for them. Everything had been for them, that the world would be a better place to live in. Now she hated them, and their presence made her sick with fear. And the person she'd feared and hated most was the only one she could stand to be around.

"It's bullshit! I can't stand to be around my own friends because they're so wrapped up in their own selves, so proud; 'Oh, we brought Buffy back from the dead, yay us!' They don't even think about it; what they did, what it really means."

She stormed around the crypt, arms flailing as she ranted. Spike merely watched her over his tumbler of pig's blood, a bemused expression on his face. This was an improvement, her tantrums; all her anger, spitting out of that pretty little mouth like razor blades.

"How could they even think I was in hell? I'm the Slayer, goddammit! Don't I deserve heaven?" She turned her face from him, hiding the hot tears. He _tsk_'d under his breath, rising to his feet. She resisted him, as he tried to pull her in close. "And the most fucked up thing? What makes it worse? Is that I'd rather be here, with you, than with my own friends…"

He raised a hand, smoothing away the hot tears. She met his eyes hesitantly, her mouth a small crease of worry. "They don't understand, love. Your bloody friends… thick in the head, all of them. But I'm here, an' I'm not leaving you. Not 'till you've bloody well killed me."

_Bloodyfuckinhell._ She was holding onto him again, pressing her mouth urgently to his, sucking the very life from him with her fervent kisses. Her hot little hands pulled him closer, held him tighter. And he gripped her just as close, just as tightly, kissing her back. _BuffyBuffyBuffy._

It was unreal, the sensation of her pressed tight to him, arms wrapped around his neck as she tried to meld her skin into his. And then they were tumbling backwards, amid an array of the debris that littered the crypt floor. There was dust in his eye, something sharp digging into his side. But he didn't care, not as long as she was kissing him like this, so full of desperation and longing and pure want.

Her hands were wrestling with his jeans, shoving them down, freeing his erection. Her own skirt had slid up around her waist, exposing her silk panties to his fingers as he sought her out through the fabric. Her breath was coming in sharp, hard pants, her eyes glazed over as she kissed his mouth and cheek and along his jaw. Fighting through the barrier of clothing, his fingers found her wet folds, and she squirmed up against his hand.

All that blood, hot and heated, rushing through her veins. His mouth found her neck, at that sweet place where the blood pumped strongest, surging up against the skin. He kissed it, bit at it with blunt teeth as she reached between them for his engorged shaft. She brought the drooling tip to her pussy, rubbing the silken head against her swollen folds as he bucked uncontrollably, lost in the ecstasy of her touch, the scent of her blood.

And then he was sheathed up inside her, her inner muscles flexing around him, squeezing him tight. He moaned into her neck. "Bloody… fuck, Buffy," he ground out into her ear, as he pumped hard into her. She lifted a leg, hooking her ankle over his shoulder.

As she did, he buried his face into her neck, mouthing at it with blunt teeth. The scraping of his canines against her flesh caused her to moan, arching into him. Her fingers twisted into his hair, holding his mouth to her as she slid into a hard, rocking orgasm. His mouth remained locked around her neck, forming a perfect seal without ever breaking skin as he continued to pump himself within her.

And then he bit down, and came hard within her.

Before he knew it, blood was pumping, hot and powerful, into his mouth, sending them both reeling as she immediately seized up around him for a second time. At once he pulled away, mouth stained red and a look of panic in his eyes.

"Buffy, the chip-"

She scrambled away, turning out of his arms and staring, dumbfounded, at his red stained lips. He at once slipped out of game face, though the apprehension didn't melt from her face.

"It can't be."

"It is."

"What do we do? I mean, is it just me, or-"

"Dunno."

She was struck by how _not_ eager to go out and kill he was, but was instead more upset about her reaction. He was, in fact, practically shaking, one hand pressed to his temple. It was beginning to creep into her mind that he had changed, for her more than anything. She crawled across the bed to him, taking his face into his hands and smiling.

"We'll figure it out." She kissed him softly, and when she pulled away to nestle in his arms, he stared at her, unsure he'd really heard what she said..

He seemed silenced, without words to answer."What was that, pet? Buffy?"

But her eyes were falling closed; her arms warm against his skin as she twined herself around him and sunk swiftly into sleep.

Xander didn't normally come through this particular cemetery, and especially not on Halloween. But the search party had been instigated by Giles to find Dawn, and Xander had been volunteered by Willow for Spike-duty.

Not that he didn't enjoy every opportunity to tease and belittle the peroxide pain-in-his ass, but he wasn't fond of searching him out to ask for his help, either. He half-wished that Spike wouldn't be in, but instead with Buffy on patrol. But then, of course, that would mean he was around Buffy.

"Creep," he muttered, approaching the crypt. He'd known of the vampire's sick fascination with Buffy since it had begun last year. Always in subtle clues, but if anyone knew what a Buffy-crush looked like, it was Xander. Hell, he still got a little too excited when he saw her in a bikini, or dancing around at the Bronze. It wasn't that he didn't love Anya; he did, with his whole heart. But Buffy… she was every man's crush.

And, as he pushed the crypt door open, wrapped up in the arms of Spike. The sight of them, asleep in a flurry of dust and odd-ends that littered the floor, released a flood of agony in Xander. At once he shut the door between them, setting off for Revello Drive.

"Willow? You here?" Xander slammed the door behind him, turning right into the dining room to find Giles and Dawn seated at the table, full of grim faces and sour expressions. "Oh, you found Dawn. Meanwhile, I just happened to walk in on Spike and -" At once Giles cut him off, rising abruptly and ushering him into the hallway.

"So you know, then?" Giles eyed Xander warily, whose expression grew incredulous in return.

"You knew? And you're letting her do it anyway? I mean, I understand she's having a hard time – we've all noticed – but sleeping with Spike? Not seeing how that's going to make things better."

"Xander, I am not her father, nor am I her Watcher. Buffy's decisions are her own, as are her reasons." He paused to remove his glasses, perform the expected by wiping them clean, and replaced them. "But you will not interfere. Do you understand?"

Xander gawked, eyes bulging comically out of his face. His mouth opened and closed in a desperate attempt at words, and a moment later he was gone, banging the door loudly behind him. Giles stared after him for a moment, rubbing his temples, before turning back to Dawn.

Buffy woke up a sometime in the early morning, still wrapped within Spike's unmoving embrace. Finding her brand-new cell phone in her jean's pocket, she dialed the house number, fingers crossed that Tara would answer.

"Hello?"

"Tara! Hey, I have something I need you to find out or me…"

"She's whatting who?"

Xander had a hangdog air about him, sitting with his head in his hands across from Willow. She suspected he'd been drinking from his sour breath, and his hair was unkempt.

"Spike. Fucking Spike," he spit the words out, face twisted into a disgusted grimace. "I walked in on them last night, when we were looking for Dawn." He turned away from Willow, slamming his fist into the table. Willow sat, contemplative, a frown etched into her lips.

"Have you talked to Buffy about it?"

"Yeah, well what do I say? 'Hey Buff, how's sex with the Undead? Again?' We can't let her do this to herself. Not after Angel."

"So… what do we do?"

The two sat across from each other, heads hung. Willow picked at a loose thread protruding from the comforter of her bed, forehead rumpled in thought.

"We could always kill Spike," Xander offered at last. Willow gave him an exasperated look.

"Well, maybe we should just talk to her, y'know? But subtly, and without the confrontation? Maybe at the Bronze tomorrow night – you are coming, right?" Willow was smiling widely, happy with her suggestion.

"Yeah. Ahn's doing dress shopping with her demon friends. Which, have you seen what vengeance demons look like? D'you think Anya…?" He shuddered violently, ridding himself of the mental image.

"Great. Just the four of us, then." Xander rose to leave, his angered expression gone. He bent to hug Willow quickly around the shoulders and press a kiss to her cheek.

"Bye, Wills. Tomorrow night?"

"Yeah, of course."

Buffy sat on the couch, arms wrapped around herself. It was as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and she could breathe freely. Tara had just left, leaving some notes on the coffee table that seemed too complex for Buffy.

It was just her, as far as Tara could tell, that the chip failed on. And no, it didn't mean she was a demon, but something of a "molecular sunburn"… something like that.

When Tara had politely questioned Buffy as to why she needed the information, Buffy had felt such an urge to confide that the entire tale spurted out of her – while leaving out the whole "I was in Heaven" tirade.

And Tara had smiled, hugged her; practically giving her blessings and approval.

It felt nice, she thought, that someone should know the secret she'd been harboring so long.

Coming to the Bronze wasn't as bad as she'd thought it would be.

No, not after she'd spotted Spike, hovering above them all on the catwalk. His blue eyes were so dark, staring out at her from that pale face covered in shadows. Willow and Tara and Xander were lost in the sea of dancers, but she had hung back, holding her plastic cup close and contenting herself with watching them.

But now she set the cup down, made her way up the steps towards him.

"Enjoying the view?" she asked, coming to stand next to him, looking down at the dance floor. He was gazing at her, though, his eyes dark and lustful.

"I am now." She blushed, smiling to herself. The music was changing now, the lights dimming. Some slow song full of rhythm and lyrical expression was filling the air now, and he extended a hand to her. "Wanna dance?"

Xander joined Willow back at the table, sending Tara off for refills. They huddled together, looking around the dance hall.

"Where'd she go?" Xander asked first, scanning the crowd. Willow shrugged, turning her face upwards.

"Oh. Ohhh. I'm thinking up. On the catwalk. With Spike."

Her fingers were curled into the soft hairs at the base of his neck, face tilted upwards to look him in the face. Their bodies were held close by his hands, the fingers digging into her hips. They weren't really dancing, simply moving side to side with the music, more absorbed with each other than the rhythm. He dipped his mouth to hers, captured and held her with a kiss.

It was like high school all over, kissing and holding in the shadows, hiding as if it were a game not to be caught. Which, really, was an issue. Xander and Willow and Tara were probably looking for her, and she could care less.

Nothing was more important than this, not now. She couldn't care less if Angel himself showed up, if Riley were whispering in her ear. She couldn't take her eyes off his face.

"Happy? You finally got your dance." She had remembered his offers from before, how he'd asked her to dance and she'd rejected him. But it was good now, and she couldn't keep the smile from her face. He smiled down at her, too.

"Very."

Willow couldn't stop Xander, only watch as he bolted from the table and up the stairs. She followed behind him, weaving through the crowd to the staircase leading upwards onto the catwalk.

He stopped at the top of the staircase, looking across the narrow catwalk at them. Her arms, thrown around his neck and face smiling up into his. His fingers, grasping her tight against him as he kissed her. Xander stormed across the catwalk, shoving Spike away from Buffy.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Xander shoved him again, spitting his words out as he shouted the vampire down. Buffy took half a moment to recover, before flinging herself a Xander.

"Xander! Stop it, now." She came to stand between them, a hand to Xander's chest and her back to Spike. Xander deflated instantly, stepping back.

"I see how it is. Protecting _him_ now?" he sneered. There was a fiery anger in his eye, and he seemed antsy to lay his hands on Spike, beat at him as hard as he could with his balled fists.

Buffy raised her hands to him, taking a step closer. "Xander, it's not what it looks like. I mean - "

"Not what it looks like, luv? Then what is it?" Spike had spoken up, anger painting his features as he pushed Buffy aside, turning her to face him. "I'm worth your bed, but not your friends?"

"Spike, don't say that." Everyone seemed to be attacking her, throwing accusations of disloyalty and hurt at her. And five minutes ago everything had been fine, wonderful. But Spike shouldered past her, stormed off the catwalk. She was left facing those two who were supposed to be her best friends. But Xander had a disgusted face himself, and he followed quickly after Spike.

And then it was just Buffy and Willow, who stood still near to the head of the stairs. Her hands were clasped before her, and she studied Buffy with an uncomprehending look.

"How could you, Buffy? It's Spike…" Her eyes flashed dark for a minute, and she met Buffy's eyes. "We're not good enough for you? We brought you out of hell, Buffy. We saved you. And instead of thanking me, instead of showing the people who love you the most how grateful you are, you sleep with Spike? What's wrong with you?"

And then she disappeared down the stairs, and Buffy was left alone, suspended over the sea of happy people; all smiles and warmth and love as they danced and crooned along with the band, so happy in their own existence.

They all went silent when she walked into the Magic Box. Dawn and Adia looked up first, sitting together at the table. Willow caught her eye, looking up with a frown on her face, while Tara looked abashed and glanced away. Xander tore himself away from Anya's side, advancing halfway across the room before Giles and Anya had the chance to look away from their ledgers.

"Able to tear yourself away from Spike's lips for longer than two seconds?" Xander sneered, his lips pulled back in disgust and anger. Buffy crossed her arms defiantly about herself, looking around the room. Her eyes settled on Willow, and she stepped closer.

"You are all so selfish, thinking I should bend down and kiss your feet. You don't know anything about what it's like for me, being back here. You don't know what you've done, what you're talking about."

"What are you taking about?" Dawn was on the verge of being frantic, oblivious to the rift between her sister and her friends. She stood up, came to stand behind Xander, uncertainty fixed in her eyes.

"You thought I was in Hell. Thought I was being tortured, and that I was damned." Her eyes were so wide and pained, even as her voice filled with anger. "I wasn't."

The room seemed at once to contract around her. Willow raised a hand to her mouth, gasped sharply. Everyone else seemed stilled in their collective shock.

"Where were you?" Xander's voice had lost its hard edge, gone all limp and sad. His eyes, too, were round and disbelieving. Buffy looked to him, hardly bearing to meet his gaze.

"I think I was in Heaven."

His hands were swimming in front of his face as he steadied himself against the side of the mausoleum. A brown bag, concealing a near-empty bottle of Jack, swung from his right hand. He lifted it to his lips, dashing it to the ground after he had swigged the last mouthful. Stumbling towards the crypt, he could here her moving around, waiting for him.

"An' so she is, here to torment me endlessly," he muttered to himself, throwing open the door. She rose swiftly from the armchair in which she had just sat, wringing her hands nervously.

"I told them," she blurted, before he could even open his mouth. "I-I told them about Heaven. How I was in it. And about you. Me, and you."

"Yeah?" Fuck, he was drunk, but he wasn't going to show it to her. Instead he stood apart from her, watching her fumble with her words. "Told them about what we do? How we fuck? How you let me bite you?" His eyes flicked to her neck, and then her face, aware of how his words were spilling rather stupidly out of his mouth. But it merely made her more nervous.

"I did. I told them that we were together, that we were sleeping together."

"You did?"

"And that it wasn't going to change." She met his eyes, uncertain of herself and searching him for affirmation. "It's not, is it?"

He couldn't stand aloof from her another second. Instead, he dropped his sharp tone, and his eyes softened. He was before her immediately, capturing her mouth in a kiss as he gathered her close in his arms. She seemed to exhale a long-held breath, and a smile spread across her face.

"Thank God, I don't know what I would've done…" She nuzzled closer to him, kissing his neck and mouth and cheeks.

"We alright then, love?" He pulled away to look her in the eye, his own so full of a need to be reassured. She smiled, shrugged a bit.

"They're not exactly cheering our names, but they'll get over it. They kinda have to."

She was kissing him again, and he couldn't believe he'd really been furious with her not two minutes before. Now they were tumbling over onto the sarcophagus, and her breathing was getting heavy, her eyes dark with desire. He flipped her onto her back, grinding against that flutter of heat between her legs.

She continued to kiss him, tongue exploring his mouth between sharp nibbles from her blunt teeth on his lip. She seemed desperate for him, pressing her body to his. And then she pulled away, just for a moment, to look into his eyes. Her face was flushed, hair coming undone around her shoulders, and her pretty pink lips were blooming into a smile as he pressed his mouth to her ear.

"This is my Heaven."

"_**I believe this heaven to no one else but me**_

_**And I'll defend it long as I can be**_

_**Left here to linger in silence if I choose to**_

_**Would you try to understand it?" **_

_**.**_


	7. Black And White

**Fumbling Towards Ecstasy**

**Lovesbitch91**

**Chapter Seven: Black & White**

"_**Unravel me,**_

_**A distant cord**_

_**On the outside is forgotten**_

_**A constant need**_

_**To get along**_

_**And the animal awakens**_

_**And all I feel is black and white."**_

The phone call came in the middle of the night, as she lay awake in her bed. She fumbled with it for a moment, brought it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Buffy? Is that you?" The familiar voice; dark and eternally guilt-ridden over a million different crimes. Yet her belly flipped, heart clenched.

"Angel?"

She was determined to make this one count. Before they had left Mr. Giles' flat, she'd sworn to herself;_ "I will not fuck up."_

So now here they were, in the middle of Restfield, waiting for the vampire to rise. She stood at the foot of a fresh grave, kicking at the dirt with her sneaker-clad toe.

"It's important to keep your head at this particular moment, before he rises. When he does he will be somewhat disoriented, and you can use that to your advantage." Giles was pacing before her, as much filled with anticipation as she was. He was constantly checking the time, as if the rising vampire had scheduled an appointment, and when the dirt began to rumble beneath his feet he stepped back.

Which left Adia, stake clenched tightly in her hands, alone at the foot of the grave. Her heart was pounding audibly in her ears as the dirt-crusted hand broke through the soft soil. The vampire's growls reverberated up through the ground, followed by a set of yellow eyes, a gaping maw of yellow teeth and then its torso.

Adia at once fell upon the vampire, executing punches and kicks, ducks and twists and tumbles as they fought hand to hand. For the first time, she truly felt the power running through her, felt her strengths. And when she stabbed the stake down into its heart it was with an accurate eye, and the vamp fell to dust beneath her.

Giles stepped forward, a small smile on his lips.

"Very good. But may I suggest…"

"Buffy, it's really you?" His voice was just the same, and she closed her eyes to picture him, the way he'd looked to her when she was younger. Like a puppy dog that had tinkled on the carpet and was constantly trying to make up for it with hand-licks. Except Angel had murdered people, some of which had been her friends.

"I think so… I mean, yeah. Angel? This is really you?" Her voice took on a disgustingly large amount of whiny innocence, and she cleared her throat and sat up in bed. "I mean, what are you doing calling this late? It's like three o'clock in the morning. Shouldn't you be out killing things?"

"Shouldn't you?"

It was already three o'clock in the morning, but Adia had staked seven vamps already. She sailed through the cemeteries with Giles lagging at her heels, high on her own self-confidence. The bandage she'd worn around her neck had been thrown away – the scars were hardly visible. And she was a Slayer. She was strong. She had power.

"No, actually. There's a new Slayer." Why was she talking about this? It wasn't as if Angel really cared. But she was enjoying talking to him, especially as it had been much too long since she'd seen him. "But why are you calling?"

"I want to see you." She thought rather violently of Spike, his little smirk beneath the slick smear of peroxide blonde hair. She saw him and Angel; his leanness and Angel's heaviness. How Spike whispered so many dirty sweet things in her ear, and Angel was mortified of even touching her, for worry of his soul. And yet she ached just as much for one than the other, was equally scared of them both.

"Alright. When?" Her voice was unsure, hesitant. But Angel didn't seem to notice, merely exhaled a long-held, unneeded breath.

"I'm actually driving up there now."

"You're what?" Her heart clenched, and she shot out of the bed. "Where are you?"

"Maybe an hour away. I'm heading straight for the mansion, though. I was hoping you'd meet me there."

She managed to drag Giles towards the sea port, her hunger for violence driving her. The docks were mostly empty, a few dark ships tethered and anchored and the warehouses deserted. But she could feel the low thrum of life; humans slinking in the shadows, rats scurrying through alleys. And demons, lurking behind doors of empty storage houses, shuffling and growling at her presence. But she wasn't repelled by this; her earlier fear had evaporated with her first kill, and she moved forward with brazen confidence.

"Perhaps we should head back now, Adia. I believe you've done enough for tonight." Giles was looking around, distrusting of the area. But Adia turned to him, smiled.

"Just one more."

A thin cloud of smoke wafted across the front porch when Buffy finally emerged, giving away Spike's presence beneath the tree. Although the sky was beginning to fade from light blue into hues of pink, Spike was comfortably situated beneath the shady branches of the oak tree.

"Do you have to be so lurk-y all the time? You're not Angel – it doesn't suit you," she confronted him irritably. He stepped out into the light that emanated from the porch light, flicking a spent cigarette.

"First off, I'm nothing like Peaches," he scoffed. And I wasn't lurking. I was waiting."

"For what, the sun? Shouldn't you be underground like the rest of the sensible Undead?" She started off down the steps, headed for the road, and Spike fell into step beside her.

"Never was right in the head, was I? Fallen for the most impossible women, I have. And they always seem to love him best, anyways."

Startled, Buffy stopped and looked at him. He was still walking, but paused to look back when he noticed her absence from his side. He stood away from her, hands down in the pockets of his duster.

"Don't say that," Buffy said quietly, looking up at him.

"S'true," he retorted, anger crossing his feature. Instinctively, he reached for another cigarette. They stood for a moment in silence, broken by the sharp snapping of the Zippo closing. "Know you're going to see him, luv. Heard you up there, making small talk."

"Not lurking, huh? Anyways, Angel's a friend, and if I want to see him you don't get to be the jealous boyfriend and go all crazy on me." Buffy's mood had turned sour in an instant, and she crossed her arms haughtily as she glared across the empty space at Spike.

He inhaled deeply, exhaled a thick cloud of acrid smoke and looked crossly at her.

"Already told you, love. The two of you will never just be friends."

This was glorious.

She'd cornered a stray demon in the alley between two hulking warehouses, and had immediately begun her assault. It was fairly man-shaped with thick green skin and reddish scales across its face. It had raised webbed hands in defense, marked by the same red scales, and emitted a high pitched screech as she attacked.

But the battle itself gave her the greatest high, the feeling of her fists pounding against its flesh, her roundhouse kicks meeting their marks and sending him flying backwards. It was almost too easy, the way the demon's flesh bruised beneath her punches, and how he fumbled his few moves at defending himself. And when the demon lay in a pulpy lump beneath her, she ripped a sharp board from a nearby empty crate and used it to sever the head.

Giles, who had hung about near the entrance to the alley came forward now, bent close to the dead demon. Adia herself was exhausted, and braced herself against the wall as she took in a few deep, refreshing breathes. Giles looked up at her, then back at the beheaded creature.

"This demon was an Ignumfarii," he said softly, and Adia imagined a brief flash of pity crossed his face.

"So?" She didn't understand why he seemed so disturbed as he closed the unstaring eyes of the dead demon.

"So they're harmless. I should have known when he didn't fight back."

"What do you mean, harmless? It was a demon, wasn't it?"

Giles blinked at her slowly, shaking his head in disbelief. "If only everything were so simply black and white as that."

Over the last few years the mansion had begun to fall into a state of serious neglect. The stone was worn and crumbling at the corners, several of the larger windows smashed and covered in ivy. But the front door was cleared off, and a shiny convertible parked outside.

Buffy was hesitant as she stepped towards the door, Spike's last words turning over in her mind. He had stalked off afterwards, cursing under his breath. And though she felt with almost certain clarity that he was right, she'd still come

She raised her fist to knock on the heavy door, but it at once swung inwards. And there was Angel, smiling at her. He hadn't changed over the years, as Buffy had so blindly expected. His was the same face she'd fallen in love with when she first came to Sunnydale.

Without words being spoken she felt herself being wrapped up into his kiss, his arms encircling her. She stood on tiptoe to present her mouth to his, and for the moment all she saw and felt and knew was him.

Yet, almost as quickly as he'd pulled her to him, he pushed her away, wiping his mouth and staring darkly at her. She stared, confused, back at him, feeling a tight knot of dread form in her belly.

"What is it?" she asked weakly. But his eyes were fixed to her neck, horror evident on his features. She realized what he was staring at instantly, and her fingers flew to the shiny pin-prick scars there. Her face fell at once, and she stepped forward to touch Angel on the arm. "Angel, please, listen-"

"You let him feed from you, touch you, Buffy?" He was staring at her with disgust, drawing back from her touch. "I can smell him, all over you. What you've been doing."

"Look, it's not like that," she said desperately. "Spike's good now, he has been for awhile. Since before I died, he's been helping and doing the right thing."

A short, barking laugh escaped Angel's lips. "So, what, he's got a soul now? I find that hard to believe."

"Well, no. But still, he's been there for me, okay? A lot more than anyone else."

"So you've been fucking him cause, what, he was there for you? 'Cause he's nice to you?" He was staring at her, disbelievingly, his mouth twisted up in rage. "Spike is not a good guy, trust me. I've only known him, been with him, for nearly a hundred plus years."

"You made him what he is," Buffy said quietly, looking into his eyes. "Even if that's not who you are anymore, you're the one that taught him. And that's not Spike, either. He's changed."

"Do you hear yourself, Buffy? There's no gray matter in this! I changed because I got a soul. If Spike's any different it's because of the chip. You think he'd hesitate to kill you and your friends if he could get rid of it?"

"If he wanted to kill any of us, he would have. He could kill me if he wanted – I've given him the chance." She bared her neck to him, and he averted his eyes. She could feel his repulsion towards her; it was coming off in waves. Reaching out a hand to touch his arm, she offered a conciliatory smile. "He's changed Angel, and for the better."

"Spike doesn't change," Angel said finally, the words coming out strangled with emotion. Buffy shook her head – it was obviously a mistake to come here. She stepped back, turned to leave.

"We can't be friends, Angel. Spike was right, when he told us that. You think this world is black and white, good and bad. I used to, too. But its not, and there's a million different shades of color in this world."

"_**And all I feel is black and white**_

_**And I'm wound up small and tight**_

_**And I don't know who I am."**_


	8. Interlude: Ice Cream

**Fumbling Towards Ecstacy**

**LovesBitch91**

**Interlude: Ice Cream**

"_**Your love is better than ice cream**_

_**Better than anything else that I've tried**_

_**You're love is better than ice cream**_

_**Everyone here knows how to fight"**_

"Do you forgive me?"

They were wrapped up snugly, arms and legs thrown about one another. She was drowsy with sleep, her body warm and lax in his arms.

"S'pose so. You did say you told him off proper, yeah?" Spike was petting her hair, eyes half-lidded. She shot him an irritated frown before smiling.

"I did. And I kinda feel bad, but with a sick twist of pleasure."

"Then I forgive you," he said, turning over in the bed to hover above her, arms pressed into the mattress on either side of her head. He dipped down to kiss her, and she giggled against his mouth and kissed him back, hands gently holding his face.

He looked down at her with a surreal sense of wonder. Her golden locks were fanned out across the red silken sheets, lips swollen and pink from kissing. Even her skin glowed with hues of sunny gold; her bare shoulders and breasts and tummy covered in fine baby hairs. When he pulled away, she smiled up at him, her eyes lighting up.

"Know I love you, yeah?" He whispered huskily, pressing himself closer to her.

"I can tell," was her reply, reaching between them to grasp his length in her tiny hands. Surprisingly, he pulled away, kissed her again.

"Seriously, Buffy." His eyes seemed impossibly stern and soft at the same time. Her smile melted, and was replaced by a serene contemplation as she stared back.

"I know," she whispered softly, touching her hand to his face, tracing his cheekbone and lower lip with her finger. She didn't say it back, no; but the softness in her eyes and sweetness of her voice spoke volumes.

And then he was dipping his mouth to hers again, pressing himself into her heat. She reached down again and he didn't pull away, but let her stroke him softly. He kept her gaze the entire time, as her face colored a bit and she continued to move her hand up and down around his shaft.

As he felt his own pleasure begin to crest he pulled away, and she instinctively spread her bare legs beneath him, hips arching upwards. She reached for him with her hands, guiding him into her. Their eyes locked as he entered her slowly, and he felt as if her gaze pierced right through him and saw him as a whole. Her rosy mouth formed a perfect 'O' as he sheathed himself in to the hilt, and she let out a gasping breath.

It hadn't been so slow the first time, nor any of the hurried times in between. But with Angel and her friends behind them there was a renewed sweetness to their lovemaking, and he felt as if it were their first time together. She explored him with her hands and mouth, kissing him and running her hands down his arms and back, sharp little nails biting into him occasionally. Her inner muscles spasmed around him as he fucked her slow and deep, pulling out almost to the tip before pushing back in slowly.

When she looked up at him, whispered the words, he almost came. He was so close already, could feel himself at the brink. And then she bared her neck to him, cupped his face and pulled it closer.

"_Do it, Spike. I want it."_

So he brought up his game face – tried to do it slow, though it was near impossibly. She held him back for a moment; touched her fingers to the ridges and bumps. He held still, feeling the demon roiling inside of him at her proximity -- its unquenchable desire to bite her, drain her. But he shoved it back as she pulled him close, tightened her muscles around his cock while he moved in her, sped up the tempo of his thrusts.

He kissed her once before dotting tiny kisses along her jaw and neck. She was thrashing beneath him, emitting tiny mewls and breathy moans. He kissed her once more on the spot above his previous mark before sinking his fangs into her skin.

The taste of her blood exploded on his tongue, salty and spicy and full of all her power. Her eyes were closed, nails scratching into his back as she came beneath him. His own orgasm rocked him further into her, pressing hard into her as his mouth formed a seal over her neck. He pulled a second draught into his mouth before retracting his fangs, licking the salty flesh. His cock was still rigid within her, hardening in response to the flood of Slayer blood now working its way through his long-dead veins. They continued their hard, pummeling rhythm, her inner muscles squeezing his shaft as he entered and reentered her. Face flushed, she writhed beneath him, nails fixed permanently into the flesh of his back, drawing blood beneath the pink, manicured tips. He buried his face into her neck, the skin still oozing tiny droplets of blood to bead around the healing marks. As he arched his back and began to empty himself out into her overflowing wetness, she seized up around him like a tight glove, squeezing every drop from him as she rode out her own orgasm.

He collapsed on top of her, and, even though his cock was already hardening again, pulled out, nestling himself down on top of her. He propped himself up on his elbows, watching her face as she came down, eyes half closed and mouth smiling softly.

They lie in silence, kissing and holding each other. Before long, Buffy's eyes drifted further downwards towards the edges of sleep, and her mouth parted slightly. The words trickled out slowly, mixed with a tinge of regret, and he nearly cried out in response to them. Instead he kissed her slackening mouth, rolled over next to her. The words were set on a loop in his mind, and long after he closed his eyes to sleep he heard them as if spoken into his ear.

"_Sometimes, Spike, I think I could love you, too." _

"_**It's a long way down to the place where we started from."**_


	9. Fallen

Chapter Nine: Fallen

LovesBitch91

_**We all begin with good intent  
Love was raw and young  
We believed that we could change ourselves  
The past could be undone  
**_

In the two weeks since Buffy had come out to her friends about her time in Heaven and subsequent affair with Spike, the blonde vampire had noted some distinct differences in the activity around the Hellmouth. The first - a plummeting decrease in demonic activity, raised more questions about the second - Buffy's lack of participation in slaying the local baddies. Instead, she seemed to spend most of her nights sprawled on the sheets of his bed in the cool, quiet underground of his crypt, or else locked away in her own bedroom. When she was with him, the candlelight cast shadows over the bare ridges of her protruding ribs and into the sunken hollow of her belly. She languished in easy silence, sharing soft whispers and sad, secret smiles as he took her for his, night after night.

Since the incident at the Bronze, and following confrontation at the Magic Box, she had found herself ostracized by her friends. Even Giles, so steadfast and forgiving, had become distant and unknown to her, despite his initial acceptance of Buffy's decision. The rare moments when the new Slayer would be mentioned between them, she grew snappish and withdrawn. Spike could see the feelings of betrayal and seeming abandonment she felt so acutely, and which she harbored against her former Watcher. It seemed Dawn was her only support; but as Buffy withdrew away from her friends even the understanding of her sister, and the only family she had, wavered and was extinguished. She had totally and completely delivered herself into Spike's hands – for, as she said, only he could understand her.

And yet, though he had attained that which he held so close to his heart, she was but a fragile shell in his arms- a molded figure that looked like, smelt like, tasted like, but wasn't Buffy. She seemed at times more hollow than the facsimile of a joke that had been the Bot.

But then she smiled. She opened her arms and called him to her by name, clutching at him for comfort and offering more back than what she had to give. And it was okay, for a little while.

Adia had become a skillful warrior, a sculpted hybrid of the two Slayers who lived and shared her calling. She had the grace, speed and talent of Buffy, as well as the cunning edge and driving motivation to kill or be killed that had both glorified and damned Faith. All of this from a nervous, blond Northerner who'd nearly died her first night out.

Yet Giles was impressed; she was both eager to please and easily pleased in return, triumphing in every battle. She took on the common vamps with ease, and fearlessly took on demons more than twice her size. She researched in her spare time, to Giles' delight. It was something neither Faith nor Buffy had held much regard for. Giles gave her access to his most coveted Watcher Diaries, and she had soaked them up in mere days.

It wasn't uncommon to walk in on the girl curled up in the large, red and white plaid reading chair, legs thrown over one of the large arms and head pillowed against the other with a book held open in her hands. She would pore over the detailed depictions of famous Slayers and Vampires, all etched carefully by hand in ink.

Before long, an older Diary fell in to the young Slayer's hands, giving an account of one of the more famous Blood Lines among vampires. It told of four devilish vampires who wrecked chaos and mayhem across Europe for almost two decades. It was the Scourge of Europe.

The cell was small, plain and dank the way most jail cells usually were. A cot here, toilet there. A sink, too, but one was lucky if it worked- and when it did it gushed forth foul-smelling yellow water. Out the small, barred window there was no view, only space for the rain to enter when the wind slanted it through the bars. Two more empty walls of grey stone, and an impregnable lattice of thick, cylindrical steel bars sealed the convict in.

During the daylight hours she walked circles in the jail-cell, stopping now and again to kick out in frustration at the walls – only to be rebuffed back onto the floor. Nothing exceptional ever happened, nothing out of the ordinary to divert her attention. Until they came for her.

She'd been dozing on the hard cot, its thin mattress proffering no comfort, listening to the sounds of far-off traffic. She was jerked awake by the screech of sliding bars, and straightened up quickly to see the rotund, hairy-lipped guard sneering at her. She curled her lip, scowling as she tossed the inmate a bundle of clothes and a small, unmarked envelope.

"Get dressed, Lehane. You're out of here."

She waited until Tara had drifted into sleep before sliding the covers down and slipping out of the bed. She paused at Dawn's door, reassuring herself that the teenager was fast asleep. There was no reason to check Buffy's door, however- the Slayer was rarely home at night. She peeked once more into her own bedroom, content with Tara's soft snores before tip-toeing down the stairs. Hidden in the hallway closet was a wicker basket, full of candles and herbs, and she grabbed this up and headed for the basement.

Locking the door behind her, she made her way slowly down the stairs. Here is where she would set up the circle, light the candles, and perform the spell. It was nothing big, nothing she couldn't handle. A simple forgetting spell that would turn Buffy from what they all knew to be no good for her. No longer would she pine for Spike's attention, and she would return to her friends, the ones that really loved her. It was for her own good, really.

She awoke with a start, wide hazel eyes flashing around in blind confusion. Spike opened his eyes drowsily, roused by the absence of her warmth. He reached a hand to touch her back softly, and her head whipped around to face him.

"Buffy, luv. You alright?" he whispered quietly, concern knitting his brows close. She let out a tiny shriek, wrapping the satin sheets around herself and scrambling off of the bed. "Bloody hell, pet. What is it?"

But she was backing away from him slowly, stumbling over her own discarded clothing. He pulled himself up, swishing a hand down to grab up his rumpled jeans. The bed was now firmly between them, and he began to wonder if she'd finally flipped a switch and decided he was a horrible accident all along. Which he really hoped wasn't the case. But the scared, confounded look in her eyes told of something much graver.

"Wh-who are you?" she croaked weakly, looking around at the crypt. She stilled, suddenly, without waiting for his response, to peer at her hands. A slight, fearful wonderment began to dawn on her features as she met his eyes. "Who am I?"

Just another hour and she'd be back in Sunny-fucking-hell.

Faith had never been one to question good luck – especially when it got her out of jail with a free trip to the local Hellmouth. Of course, she wasn't too sure how her recent luck would fair in the Sunnydale- she'd always run into a bad streak there. But hey, no more communal showers. No more grope-y, tough-as-shit lesbo-inmates. And no more damned Lifetime movies.

Just the sweet, sweet taste of freedom.

There was an hour of smooth-talking and soothing before Spike managed to get the amnesiac Slayer dressed and cooperative. He was wary of clueing her in just yet, afraid of what her reaction would be. So he dressed her, led her upstairs and out of the crypt. After her initial freak-out she had become quiet and listless, staring about herself with wide, uncomprehending eyes. His own hand was shaking as he led her by the elbow, deciding to stop beneath a glaring street-lamp and light a cigarette as he wracked his brain for a plausible course of action.

"My parents," she mumbled, shaking him from his troubled thoughts. He turned his eyes to her.

"What?"

"I have parents, don't I? Take me to them." Her voice was quiet, and he felt a pang of loss as he remembered her mother.

Suddenly resolute, he grabbed her arm and led her down a side street. "I've got the next best thing."

Adia had studied the pictures, fingers tracing and retracing the sketches of his face. A blind fury had risen in her, accompanied by an overwhelming disgust. William the Bloody. Slayer of Slayers.

And Buffy was fucking him.

Of course Buffy must know about his history- she'd assumed that much as simple fact. And then she let him into her bed. She had screwed an undead, soulless, evil killer. And it was wrong. Adia almost felt physically sick from the thought. She'd been confused, at first, at the playful banter between the two her first night patrolling, and later on when Buffy had professed to be "sleeping with Spike" at the Magic Box. But she hadn't so fully understood the implications until now. Filled with a renewed purpose and a burning hatred, she gathered her stakes and set off to find the Slayer of Slayers.

Giles, when he finally opened the door, wore a confounded expression and hastily tied bathrobe. Eyes darting from Slayer to vampire, and recognizing the distress in Spike's eyes, he quickly ushered them both in. Buffy was holding her arms close around herself as she looked up at Giles. She was worrying her lower lip with her teeth, fumbling with her words.

"Are you my father?" she asked quietly. Giles' eyes grew large, and he sputtered something that sounded like 'Dear, Lord'.

"No, Buffy, I'm not," he said softly, leading her to one of the couches. "Stay here a moment, would you, while I have a word with Spike?" She nodded uncertainly, drawing her knees up and pillowing her troubled face against them.

Spike was dragged by the elbow into the closed off kitchen. Giles closed the door softly behind him before whirling around to face Spike.

"What in the bloody hell is that all about?" Spike's own eyes were dark in confusion and worry as he shook his head.

"No bleedin' idea, mate. Woke up and she didn't know who she was. Thought she was off her soddin' rocker at first, way she was scramblin' away. But this… bloody well tastes like magic, s'what I think. " Giles shook his head, fingers flying upwards to rub his temples.

"Leave her with me. And go… try to find any information you can. I'll call Willow and Tara." Spike nodded, turning to go before he paused, and looked back at the Watcher. Giles' eyes were weary; a thousand times older and wiser, but tired. Their eyes locked, and Giles forced a sad smile. "It was right, to bring her here."

Spike shook his head, turning to go. "I hope so."

Three women showed up a half-hour later. Or, really, two and a half women - the one girl looked barely sixteen. At once the younger one threw herself around Buffy's shoulders, squeezing her tightly. When she drew away, the brunette's eyes were wet and full of tears. The other two, a redhead and a doe-eyed blonde, spoke in hushed tones with Giles, the man whose house she'd been brought to. Their eyes flicked over to her occasionally, all tinged with worry.

"You don't know me, do you?" the brunette was talking quietly to her, and Buffy shook her head. "I'm Dawn, I'm your sister."

"And I'm Buffy?" She made a face, the name sounding funny and foreign on her tongue. "Who named me that?"

"Mom. She was funny like that." Dawn's tone had become hushed and reminiscent, and Buffy turned to more fully face her.

"Where are they? Our parents? I asked that one man, Spike, but he brought me here."

"Mom's dead. Our dad… no one really knows where he's at…" Dawn said quietly, looking anywhere but at Buffy. "It's just us. And Willow and Tara." She nodded to the two women, the redhead and blonde. "They live with us."

"And they can help me remember? Who I am?"

"I hope so."

The night was cool, sky littered with thousands of stars. The old Greyhound bus had finally reached its destination, and Faith was ready to get right back into slaying. She had no baggage but what she wore, and it took only a quick look in the alley to locate a hefty shard of wood with a ragged, wicked sharp tip.

Her dark eyes glittering, nostrils flaring to breathe in the sweet night air, she headed off into the night.

A few pit stops at the local demon bars yielded no information about agendas against the Slayer, and Spike was becoming agitated. Figuring the witches would be more than capable at sorting out the current lapse of memory Buffy was experiencing, he set off towards the nearest cemetery, full of bloodlust and the strong desire to rip some meaty demon apart with his bare hands.

Her blonde hair fell across her face, and she irritably pushed it back, crouched low on the old stone mausoleum as she watched the blonde vampire strut through the cemetery, dark leather duster billowing out behind him. She'd been following him for the better part of an hour, always just out of earshot, eyes narrowed in a predatory fashion as she stalked him through alleys and tombstones. He was preoccupied with something, she could tell, for he hadn't once turned in her direction. She'd been sure, a few times, that he would when the wind rose up behind her and carried forth her scent. But he'd simply kept his pace, lighting a cigarette as he marched onwards.

A smile crept into her features. There, a group of vamps sucked desperately against a writhing female they'd snatched. Four of them altogether, mouths red as they clawed at her, searching her soft flesh for a new, unmarked place to dig in their fangs. Spike had smelt the overpowering scent of blood, she could tell. He slipped into his demon visage and snarled, rushing the four unsuspecting vamps.

She watched a moment longer, the way he fought without abandon, and she itched to join in, work her muscles against him in true combat.

As the last vampire's dust drifted off onto the wind she smiled and leapt down from her perch to face Spike.

Faith was getting pissed. Almost an hour she'd been out, scourging the streets of Sunnydale and not one measly vamp to be seen. She was ready to start a brawl down at the nearest demon bar when she heard the fight in progress. A smile crept over her face as she headed across the deserted graveyard in search of a good tussle.

Her boot came out of nowhere, knocking him into the ground with a loud _thud_.

He opened his eyes, looking up into her gray ones that peered down with disgust at his prone form.

"Bloody hell, pet. What's that for, then?" He rose cautiously, eyeing her with newfound distrust. Her fists were raised, a wooden stake clenched tightly. He eyed this warily, eyes flicking up to read the expression on her face. "What's this? Thought we were on the same page, luv."

"Don't call me that." Her eyes were steely, voice even harder as she stared at him with daggers in her eyes.

"Here for a fight then? Sorry, Slayer. I'm not here for that." He backed away uneasily, trying to pull off the false bravado. It seemed she'd lost it then, coming after him like this when she knew full well he was on her side. She'd been following him since just after he left Giles', though he hadn't alerted her to this.

"Too bad." She smirked then, her pale pink lips twisting her face. She launched herself at him, and he silently cursed that damned Slayer speed and strength. He was trying his hardest to defend himself, parried blows left and right. It wasn't that she was so skilled as that – several times he could easily have snuck into her weak guard and taken her down, but not without a severe migraine.

So he tried his hardest to block her blows and tire her out before she struck out with that deadly stake.

Faith smiled at the scene before her.

Some blonde headed girl was trying to take out Spike, who simply blocked her moves without making a single blow himself. She remembered, suddenly, that Spike was helpless – couldn't hit her if he'd wanted to, anyways. Some military chip.

So why was she fighting him? She wasn't a vamp, no, but her strength and speed weren't normal. And then Faith realized. _Slayer._

Tara was curled up in the reading chair across from Willow, fearful suspicions running through her mind. The book on Willow's lap had fallen to the side, its coded pages tilted away from her gaze. The red-head witch was chewing her lips, worry-knit eyes glancing occasionally at the sleeping Slayer, whose memory loss was still a complete mystery.

Something wasn't right.

She noticed Giles, book open before him, staring at Willow occasionally too, his eyes darting from page to witch. It seemed a fist had clenched Tara's heart, as she tried desperately to deny what she knew to be true. This whole situation was marked in big, red letters: Willow Did This.

One moment Spike's face was leering at her, and the next she was flat on her back, staring up into the face of a dark haired woman with smiling red lips. She only had a moment to process what had just happened before a boot pressed down into her chest. She tried to pry it away without success, giving up to lie defeated beneath it.

"Need a hand?" The dark-haired woman was smiling at Spike, her eyes sparkling in amusement.

"Thanks, luv." Spike lit up a cigarette, looking down with disdain at the restrained Slayer.

"Faith, by the way," she offered. "Probably don't remember me all that well." But his eyes were smiling as the name triggered a long forgotten memory and he smirked at her.

"Never did get to… what was it? Make me pop like warm champagne?" Her lips twisted upwards into a smile, and she ducked her eyes down quickly.

"Speakin' of B…" Faith's smile melted suddenly, as she looked down at the fuming Slayer, who watched the conversation with little interest, and more confusion. "She kick it?"

Spike frowned. "Kick what?" And then his eyes fell on Adia, and he shook his head. "Only for a few months. Left her off with the Watcher. 'Spose I should be getting' back 'bout now. Care to give a fellow a hand with this one?"

Two sets of arms lifted Adia up off the ground, who hung listlessly in their grasp, having made herself unnaturally heavy. They were almost sure she'd given in by then, having recognized defeat, when she threw her arms out, sending both Slayer and Vampire to the ground before bolting away.

"Bloody hell, been yammerin' to take that bint out, 'cept for the sodding chip." Spike explained, watching her form disappear into the night. He looked uncertainly at Faith, eyebrows raised in question. "Don't 'spose you're headin' to see Rupes and the rest of the Scoobies?"

Faith's dark eyes were lingering on the spot where moments before Adia had lain on the ground before flicking her smiling eyes up at him. She gave a slight shrug, her lips tightening just visibly.

"Might as well. Sure they're gonna throw me a welcome home party."

Okay, so maybe that spell had been a little bad. Or a lot bad.

Willow sat on the couch, wedged between Dawn and the arm, biting her lips nervously as she glanced down occasionally at the book in her lap. Doing research was hard when you knew the answer already. Tara was curled up across from her, staring over at Buffy, who had drifted off to sleep.

"She seems so different," Tara remarked softly. "So… scared and alone." Of course she is, Willow thought. You made her forget who she was, what she was.

A sudden need to get away from the onset of claustrophobia launched Willow off the couch, stumbling over piles of yet-to-be-read books and into the kitchen, mumbling something about a drink as she went.

It seemed that Tara and Giles both threw themselves after Willow the moment she disappeared through the door, meeting each other there with knowing glances. They pushed open the door, Tara going first, to see Willow hunched over the counter, head in her hands. She looked up with sunken green eyes, a small frown etched into her forehead and lips turn downwards. Tara staid back, observing the witch.

"Willow…" Giles seemed to be battling with the right words to say, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water.

"What've you done?" Tara asked quietly, eyes hesitantly meeting Willow's. At once the redhead inflated, rising up straight with a defiant look in her eyes.

"She was sick! I only tried to help her," her face twisted, lips forming a disgusted grimace. "You guys might not care that she's sleeping with…with that _thing_, but I do and Buffy's my friend_._"

"You can't just _fix_ people Willow!" Tara seemed on the verge of shouting, arms crossed around herself as she stared, disbelieving, at her girlfriend. "Just because she's doing something you don't like doesn't mean you do a spell to change her! You can't mess with people's lives like this."

"I suggest you get in there and fix this," Giles said in a deadly quiet tone. Willow's eyes were blotchy, on the verge of angry tears. She crossed her arms, looking from Tara to Giles.

"Fix her yourselves." She shouldered past them, and a moment later they heard the slamming of a door.

Tara took a long moment before letting out a sigh. "I'll try to undo the spell. I'm pretty sure I can figure out which one she used, now that we know he was her."

"Quite right. I'll... um, make some tea."

Faith grew more nervous as they approached Giles' flat, lingering for a long moment on the porch. Spike, hand on the door, looked back at her.

"Well, better come in. Have to face the soddin' ponces sooner or later." In a moment of fierce determination, Faith launched herself at the door, and in a few seconds was standing in the middle of the living room. Tara and Giles looked up from their books, eyes widening in shock.

"Dear Lord. Faith?"

How dare they? Willow was fuming, walking quickly away from Giles' flat. It was for the best, really. Just a little too strong. But no, they chose to blame everything on Willow, who seemed to be the only one who really cared about Buffy. Spike was by far her worst boyfriend so far, even worse than Parker. At least Parker had never tried to eat her.

Xander's apartment was around here, she realized. In fact, it was just around that corner. He'd be up, for sure. And hopefully he wouldn't hate her, because he hated Spike, too. He'd understand.

It went better than expected. Giles listened calmly to Faith's explanation and subsequent abashed apology, finally welcoming her with a warm - if somewhat reserved - hug. Spike stood in the background, one eye fixed on Tara as she worked on undoing Willow's spell, and the other on the dozing Slayer. As he watched her, she roused herself from sleep, blinking sleepily around her before her face fell, and she drew her knees to her chin. At once he was at her side, crouched down in front of her and looking up with a searching gaze.

"All right, Buffy?" he whispered softly, one hand cupping her drawn up knee. She nodded silently, her hand reaching out to grasp his hand. He held it, his eyes full of adoration.

"We're ready," Tara called out, and the two turned towards the witch, who held a sheaf of papers - her notes. "It'll just be really quick, the original spell was pretty simple. Will - sh-she probably wasn't thinking anyone would find out." The blonde witch was obviously distressed over her girlfriend's use of magic and deception, the corners of her normally smiling mouth wilted.

"Well, come on then luv." Spike pulled her up by their clasped hands, and she remained glued to his side as they went to sit by Tara.

"I mean, he's Evil. Capital E. What does she see in him?"

Xander and Anya lay side by side in bed, hands clasped. Anya rolled her eyes at his comment, attempting to soothe him with a quick pat on the shoulder.

"It's probably just the sex, honey. I mean, whoosh. I would - I mean, he's very handsome." Anya turned her face from Xander, hiding her dreamy expression. Xander looked horrified, propping himself up on his elbows to see her better.

"Anya! Eww, mental images I never want to imagine again, and he is not handsome. Sure, he might have perfect washboard abs and cheekbones you could cut – oh, my God. Shut me up, please." Taking the cue, Anya at once pressed her lips to his, drawing him away from his disturbing – if not altogether pleasant – mental images. But he pulled away just as quick.

"I mean, Buffy's my best friend. And I thought she had gotten the whole vampire thing out of her system after Angel, y'know? But it's even worse, now that it's Spike."

"Enough about Buffy, Xander," Anya pouted, slapping him lightly. "I mean, I'm here in your bed and I want to have sex with you and all you can do is talk about Buffy! Buffy, Buffy, Buffy!"

"Anya, you're not being fair," he argued pitiably. She leapt up suddenly, scrambling over him to get out of the bed. Instead of looking appropriately abashed, Xander simply gawked openmouthed at her, at a loss for what to say. Anya regarded him coldly, then turned to leave the room.

"I'm staying at a friend's tonight, and maybe tomorrow until you find out whether you love me or Buffy!" She was jerking clothes on, digging through the open closet door until she found a pair of sandals. Xander followed her quietly to the front door, watching her throw it open and pause. She darted a dark look back at Xander and stormed out of the apartment.

Willow stood, confused yet smilingly, on his doorstep.

With the incantation of a few Latin words and the burning of some funky-smelling incense, a thousand memories broke through Buffy's conscience and she fell to the floor. Faces, dates and times flew past her, all scrambled up and yet perfectly clear, as if her entire life was flashing before her eyes. And then it all stopped with a cataclysmic whoosh, and she was staring up into Spike's face, his dark brows knit in concern as he passed a hand soothingly through her hair.

She forced herself to take a few heaving breathes, the exhales coming out as hoarse sobs while tears filled her eyes and she reached her arms out to him. He pulled her up into his arms, cradling her like a child as her rubbed soft circles into her back.

"Shush, luv, it's alright."

She pulled back, meeting his eyes. When she spoke, her voice was ragged, hoarse.

"No, it's not."

This was better. Sitting cozily next to Xander, knees drawn up and a steaming mug of fresh coffee warming her hands. They sat, heads together, like they had on so many sleepovers when they were younger.

"Nobody else gets why this is such a big deal – and that's what gets me," Xander sighed, sipping his coffee slowly.

"I don't know. They don't know Buffy like we do, how bad her relationships tend to be when she goes for the undead. I mean, remember what Angel did?"

Xander grimaced at the mention of Buffy's former love and Willow turned to him. "We have to do something, something to make Buffy realize she can't fall for Spike."

"I know, if it wasn't for that stupid chip she wouldn't have forgotten that he was evil." Despite Xander's sullen mood, Willow grinned. Excitement was building and she knew exactly what had to be done.

_I've fallen...  
I have sunk so low  
I have messed up  
Better I should know  
So don't come round here  
And tell me I told you so..._


	10. Do What You Have To Do

Fumbling Towards Ecstasy

Lovesbitch91

Chapter Ten: Do What You Have To Do

"_What ravages of spirit conjured this temptuous rage?  
Created you a monster; broken by the rules of love_

_And fate has led you through it,  
You do what you have to do."_

"What do you mean, luv? What's not right?"

"Everything."_  
_

Spike stared at her, wide blue eyes full of confusion. Buffy was aware of all them looking at her; Faith, Giles, Dawn, Tara. She stared back at Spike with sad, mournful eyes.

"Care to explain?" His voice was soft, and she could hear the tinge of fear in it.

"Me. You. This whole mess." She pulled away from him, strode a few steps in the opposite direction of the huddled group of her friends. She turned away from them, shoulders sagging. She fumbled with her words, nothing sounding right on her lips. "I haven't been a good sister, or a good Slayer, or a good friend. I haven't been doing anything right." She felt Spike's hand on her shoulder, let herself be pulled around to face him. She dropped her eyes, unwilling to face his.

"There is nothing wrong with you, Buffy." That was Dawn's voice, her little sister approaching softly.

All those memories rushing back to her had brought with them a sense of reproach, as she remembered who she used to be, what she used to do. The last few weeks flashing by her, of her languishing slowly, entrusting herself so completely into Spike's care that she couldn't remember the last time she'd done something so simple as to buy groceries for the empty cupboards at home. She figured Willow and Tara had taken care of that, that Dawn had been okay with them while she lay in Spike's bed and forgot about the world.

She turned her eyes to Dawn. The young girl was looking up, eyes so wide and hopeful.

"I'm sorry, Dawnie," she whispered, and her sister threw her arms around her, holding her close. "I know I haven't been there lately, but I will. I promise." The words were muffled in Dawn's hair, but Dawn nodded and clenched Buffy tighter, showing that she heard and understood.

Buffy pulled away, turning to Spike. Her hands at once flew to his face and worry crossed her features. "She attacked you." In truth, Spike had completely forgotten about it, more engrossed with Buffy. He shrugged, cocking his head.

"I'm alright now, pet. Nothing I couldn't handle."

"Yeah, you were really handling it well when I showed up and saved your ass." Faith grinned, stepping forward. Her eyes slid from Spike to Buffy, her smile dampening as she sized up the blonde Slayer. "You miss me, B?"

Buffy regarded her quietly for a moment, then smiled.

"Of course, _F_. You didn't try to kill my boyfriend." Buffy turned quickly to Giles, her face hardened and angry. "I'm going to find her."

"Uh, Willow? That only sounds like stupid idea number three-hundred and forty-seven."

"Relax, Xander. He won't even notice, at first." Willow was avidly flipping through a few volumes she kept at the house for independent research. The two had returned to the Summer's residence after Willow had thought up her brilliant plan. "And then all we have to do is figure out a way to provoke him in front of Buffy. No way she won't absolutely have to stake him."

"And if she doesn't , I will," Xander said grimly. Willow shot him a sideways glance, smiling nervously.

"Actually, I was thinking you could be the bait." Willow shrugged as Xander jumped, regarding her with wide eyes.

"_What?_ We are so not letting the evil, blood-sucking fiend bite me," he yelped, scooting backwards in his chair. Willow grinned.

"Oh, Xander. Buffy will be there. You really think she's going to let him go that far?"

"I don't know, Willow," Xander confided with a quiet sigh. "You never know about the Buffster these days."

"Stay. Away. From. My. Boyfriend." Buffy ground out each word slowly as she mercilessly banged Adia's head against the hard ground. The blonde Slayer had been walking aimlessly through the park when Faith and Buffy had happened upon her. Faith had stood in the background as Buffy launched herself at the younger Slayer and knocked her to the ground.

Adia shot out a hand, gripping Buffy's leg and yanking her to the ground next to her. In a moment she had righted herself and stood, feet planted on either side of Buffy's body. She reached down, grabbing a fistful of Buffy's shirt and hauled her face up.

"You're sick," the younger sneered, throwing a well-aimed punch at Buffy's jaw. It took only a moment for Buffy to pull herself away, and she sent a high roundhouse kick, hitting Adia square in the chest and sending her to the ground. As Buffy approached, Adia was coughing hard, trying to wipe the blood trickling from her nose. "He's a vampire, we slay them."

"Yeah, we do. But not him." Buffy kicked the girl in the gut, sending her body tumbling a dozen feet more to rest against the firm trunk of a tree. The fight had left bruises all over Adia's face and torso, though Buffy remained unscratched. As the younger Slayer tried to prop herself up against the tree, Faith stepped forward, grasping Buffy lightly by the arm.

"Yo, B. It's getting light. We should go ahead and drag her back before your boytoy gets stuck with the G-man all day." Buffy nodded, regarding the bruised and beaten Slayer coldly. Buffy and Faith each reached out an arm to grasp the girl by each arm and haul her up. Faith checked and double-checked her grip on the girl, allowing no resistance.

"Don't you know by now, girlie? You don't mess with B's vamps -- she'll gut you."

Willow hurriedly shucked the few supplies she needed into a knapsack, throwing a heavy book on top. She was antsy, aware that Buffy, Tara and Dawn might, at any point, show up unannounced. Tara had undoubtedly broken her light charm by now – it hadn't been anything major in the first place. She'd mainly relied on the fact that no one would suspect anything was wrong to keep the memory spell in place, which obviously hadn't panned out the way she'd expected. She ushered Xander out the door, locking it behind her, and they both piled into the front seat of his car.

"Are you sure Anya won't be home tonight?" Willow asked, tugging on the seatbelt and fastening it as Xander pulled out of the driveway. He was nervous, a light sweat beading his forehead.

"We had a fight, so she'll be staying at a friend's."

"Funny, I didn't think she had any other friends." Willow bit her tongue at the malice in her statement, looking out the window at the lightening sky.

"I don't know. There's a vengeance demon, Hallie? And the face…" Xander shuddered, turning out onto the main road. A heavy silence fell between them, and Willow rested her head against the cool window.

Fifteen minutes later they pulled up to Xander's apartment complex. Turning the car off, he hesitated at getting out and looked over at Willow.

"Are you sure this is gonna work?" Willow smiled at him softly, placing a hand on his arm.

"Trust me, Xander. The moment Buffy realizes Spike doesn't have a chip, he'll be dust."

Giles was stark pale as he surveyed the three Slayers standing before him. Adia was unconscious – Faith had knocked her out halfway there, tired of her incessant cursing. Buffy was grave, hefting the girl into the living room and depositing her unceremoniously onto the couch. And Faith looked as if she could stand to hit something a few more times, as she lingered in the doorway.

"Okay, this is the last time I drag her back here," she said, turning to face Giles, hands on her hips. "I want her gone."

"Dear Lord, Buffy. What have you done?" Giles was rushing to her side, feeling Adia's pulse and assessing the damage. Tara appeared from the back with a first aid kit, and knelt next to Giles, helping to clean the wounds.

"Seriously, Giles. She's a ticking time bomb. She's already attacked Spike, who next? Me? Faith?" Spike wasn't present, having most likely left to avoid being stranded at Giles' for the day, and Faith still hung back near the door, her dark eyes flickering from Buffy to Giles. Giles heaved a sigh, removing his glasses and massaging his temples. A flicker of sorrow flashed through Buffy – he'd been through a lot lately. Her death and resurrection, a new Slayer, learning Buffy was involved with a vampire – and none of it for the first time.

"I suppose you're right," he muttered, standing up. "She will remain here until I can call the Council and schedule the next plane back."

Buffy nodded, satisfied. She looked over her shoulder at Faith and smiled.

"Thanks, Faith. For saving Spike, and helping me find her." Faith seemed mildly surprised at Buffy's gratitude, but smiled and nodded.

"Yes, Faith, I quite forgot to ask you; what might your plans be, now that you've returned?" Giles assessed the darker Slayer, and Faith uncrossed her arms, letting them swing loosely at her sides.

"Figured I'd hang around for a while, help Blondie out 'till the next time we try and kill each other." Giles and Buffy both grimaced, and Faith laughed. "Nah, I'm just playin', yeah B?"

"Please?" Buffy smiled and looked around the room. Tara had just finished bandaging Adia, and Dawn was sitting droopy-eyed in the armchair. "I suppose I'd better be getting home. You need a place to stay tonight Faith?"

Faith beamed at the suggestion, although she shrugged nonchalantly and nodded. "Yeah, I'm pretty beat."

Buffy glanced over to Giles as she ushered Dawn out of the chair. "I'll call you tomorrow? Or later today, really."

Her Watcher nodded, kneeling next to his youngest charge.

Xander was huddled on the couch, watching Willow perform the spell. The living room stunk of charred herbs, and a hazy smoke filled the air. Willow was oblivious, her dark eyes staring at nothing as the Latin words fell from her lips.

And then she stopped, and the room seemed to spin from all the magic in the air. The last thing he remembered before passing out from the fumes was Willow standing over him, grinning, her eyes black.

"_It's done." _

Spike fell to the ground as his head exploded. The pulsing pain of the chip held him there, as he gritted his teeth against it. He'd been in his armchair, sipping on a mug of O-neg and watching 'Passions' when the chip had fired. The pain had never been so intense, never lasted so long.

And then it faded, receding as quickly as it had been brought up, and everything went black.

When Willow opened the door, it was almost eight in the morning. And sitting on the steps, waiting to greet her with grim faces were Buffy and Tara. She eyed them nervously, and they did the same to her. Tara's eyes were red, her cheeks flushed and blotchy – she'd been crying. Buffy stood up, arms crossed and a stern look on her face.

"I want you to leave."

Willow furrowed her brows, the corners of her mouth failing. "What? Leave? But Buffy, I was just trying to help…"

"Well you didn't. Actually, that's not quite right. I don't need help, least of all from you. Not if your 'helping' is just going to make me forget who I am."

What the heck? She kinda knew Buffy would be mad, but now she wanted her to leave? She was only trying to help – didn't they all know Buffy's sick fascination with vampires was only going to hurt her?

"Okay, fine." The words slipped out without Willow ever meaning for them to, and she watched open-mouthed as Buffy nodded and retreated up the stairs. Tara stood next, hiding her face behind her long hair and picking up a heavy box that had been hidden behind her on the stairs.

"Here's some of your stuff," she said quietly, holding it out and refusing to meet Willow's eyes. "I can bring the rest by later…"

"Baby-"

"I don't think we can be together, Will."

"But Tara," she started, but Tara was already turned around, taking the steps slowly, one at a time. "Tara!"

She didn't stop, and Willow felt the hot tears rising. She let out a strangled sob, watching Tara turn at the head of the stairs, and clutched the heavy box to her chest. The minutes walked by; painfully, slowly, and Willow finally turned to go. Taking a last glance at the vacated stairs, she left.

"Tonight, let's do it tonight."

Willow and Xander were huddled together once again on his couch, Willow's box of things left and forgotten by the door. She'd rushed over immediately after leaving the house on Revello Drive, catching Xander on the way out. At the sight of her crest-fallen face, he'd retracted back into the house, closing the door behind them as she blurted out the entire story.

"Do what tonight?" Xander queried, feigning ignorance. Willow arched a slim eyebrow, a mischievous smile tugging on her lips. She wiggled her eyebrows conspiratorially, her smile broadening.

"You know."

"Okay, see, here's where I'm putting one foot out the bandwagon and slowing us down to a stop. I mean, yeah I hate Spike just as much as the next sane person, and yeah I hate the fact that my best friend is sleeping with him, but how safe is it to set the evil, unchipped, unsouled vampire loose? What if Buffy doesn't stake him? What if he gets away and starts killing people?"

Willow laid a reassuring hand on his arm, her smile still intact. "Don't worry, Xander. I've got it all figured out."

Buffy and Dawn stayed home during the day, waking up to a late breakfast of pancakes and curling up on the couch in their pajamas watching cartoons. Faith had left early in the morning, having barely slept more than a few hours on the couch. Tara was at classes, leaving the two Summers girls alone for the day.

"This is nice," Dawn commented, settling down with a bowl of popcorn. The sky outside was darkening, and Buffy knew she should be out patrolling, but stayed put on the couch a while longer.

"Yeah, it is." Buffy smiled, her eyes sparkling with genuine affection for her sister. "It's been too long."

An easy silence fell between, both pairs of eyes drawn to the blue glow of the television. It was quickly interrupted by the front door squeaking open and two pairs of feet trod into the house. Buffy turned quickly to see Faith and Tara enter, and stood up to greet them.

"Feeling up for a bit of rough?" Faith asked, dark eyes glinting as she twirled a stake in her hand. Tara was moving silently upstairs, and Buffy spun around to face Dawn, who rolled her eyes.

"Go, save the world from evil vampires. I'll be fine."

Buffy smiled, grabbing a jacket.

"I won't be long, I promise."

"Let's stop by here," Buffy held out an arm, pointing to Spike's crypt a few yards away. Faith waited outside as Buffy slipped in quietly. Spike was sprawled on the armchair; a glass of amber-colored liquid in left his hand and the smell of alcohol hanging in the air.

"Spike? What is this?" Empty bottles litter the floor, and as she stepped forward she noticed that his right hand was clutching the side of his head. "What's wrong?"

"Bloody chip…" he murmured, turning to face her. Noticing his eyes are clear, his drunken bout long passed, and she knelt next to him.

"Is it hurting? Is something wrong with it?" She softly fingered his temples, as if feeling for the tiny bit of plastic and metal implanted in his brain.

"Not anymore. I'm fine now." He heaved a sigh, fishing a cigarette from his pack and lighting it.

"Oh, well me and Faith are out for patrol. Wanna come?"

Shrugging, he stood up and grabbed his duster. Without a word they filed out of the tomb.

"So are we just gonna wander aimlessly until we trip over them, or what?"

Willow rolls her eyes, tugging Xander in the direction of the nearest cemetery. When she glances back at him, her pupils are large and black.

"I can find them."

The three had just finished with a large group of fledgling vampires when Willow and Xander appeared beyond the next row of tombstones. Buffy froze, her eyes darting between her two best friends. They stopped a few feet away, and it put her in mind of an old western showdown, the way they kept their distance, eyeing the two Slayers and vampire.

"Hey Buff," Willow called out nonchalantly, though she didn't move forward. Buffy smiled weakly as her eyes flashed to Xander. But he wasn't looking at her. Instead his eyes glittered malevolently, fastened on Spike.

Faith was the one to swagger forward, Buffy and Spike pulled forward as if by an invisible cord. They came to rest a few feet away, filled with unease.

"How's it going, Faith?" Willow asked conversationally, a calm smile on her lips.

"Five by Five, Sabrina." Faith obviously didn't trust the redhead, but Willow ignored it, turning to Buffy.

"I thought we might find you around here. I just wanted to say I'm sorry for, y'know, everything." Buffy was looking at her warily, arms crossed. "I mean, I was totally wrong, I know. And I won't do that to you again. Ever."

"Thanks."

It was almost too simple, getting Buffy to visibly loosen in front of her. A few smiles and well-placed words and she was in, nearly forgiven. She glanced at Xander, who was biting his lip as he darted fleeting looks to Spike. The vampire was oblivious to them, staring at Buffy. Willow closed her eyes for just a moment, and let the magic flow through her.

"I don't care what Willow says," Xander started abruptly, his eyes turning to Buffy. "How can you let that thing touch you?" Buffy was visibly startled at his tone, but hardened towards him.

"Don't, Xander. He's none of your business."

"No, he's not. He's just a body, a thing, and you let him touch you."

"Xander…" Willow warned quietly. But he ignored her, turning vehemently towards Spike.

"Do you know that? You're nothing; just an evil, disgusting thing."

_Bloody, fucking Xander – always butting in. I'd love to just rip his throat out…_

The thought startled Spike. He hadn't felt such a violent rush in a long time, and he shook it off nervously. He listened quietly to Xander's words, Buffy's quiet defense of him to her buddies.

_I should hit him, just once. Put him in his place._

"_Bloody hell, mate. Get a hold of yourself,"_ he told himself silently.

_Why? He deserves it, trying to tear Buffy away with his words…_

"_Because it's wrong."_ Buffy's own words reverberated in his head, and he shook them away with a grimace.

_Not wrong. Natural._

A second before she heard the menacing growl, Buffy turned to look at Willow. The witch had been unnaturally silent for a while, as Xander ranted to Buffy about how sick she was, how wrong, how disgusting. But when Buffy glanced at Willow, she knew something wasn't right.

The redhead's eyes were black, for one. And her lips were twitching slightly, and her eyes were locked on Spike…

"Spike!" The vampire lunged towards Xander. Faith, who had been a millisecond faster than Buffy, grabbed Spike around the shoulders and hauled him off after only a couple punches. Xander lay on the ground, blood spurting from his nose, one hand clasped over a swelling eye. He gaped open-mouthed at Spike, pointing a finger at him.

"The chip! The chip didn't go off!"

At his words, something froze inside of Buffy, and she turned slowly to glance at the vampire. Faith had thrown him to the ground as she helped Xander up, and he stared up in disbelief at Buffy.

Buffy couldn't move; her muscles locked in place as she realized that Spike wasn't writhing in pain. The chip wasn't working; he had just hit her best friend, _and the chip wasn't working_.

"Buffy…" her name emerged from his throat mangled and forced, as the two faced each other, oblivious to the others surrounding them.

And then Willow appeared in her peripheral vision, stake in hand, and planted it firmly in Spike's chest.

Tara knelt in the middle of what had once been their room, clinging to a picture as silent tears coursed down her cheeks. The picture was of her and Willow, taken two years ago when they'd first started dating, sprawled beneath a tree hugging each other.

And happy, and together, and smiling.

And it was over, really really over and Tara just couldn't reconcile herself to the fact that Willow wouldn't be in her life _like that_ anymore. She couldn't be.

There was a soft knock at the door, and Tara hastily tossed the framed photo onto the bed, wiping at her eyes with the hem of her sleeve.

"Yes?"

Two plate-sized eyes peeked in, followed by a mass of silky brown hair.

"Hey, Dawnie." The girl slipped into the room, rushing to kneel next to Tara, and wrapping her arms around her.

"I heard you up here, and I didn't want you to be alone."

Tara was smiling through her tears, hugging the girl back.

"Thanks, Dawn."

Dawn pulled back, biting her lip and looking up with questioning eyes at Tara.

"Do you think you'll ever get back together?"

Tara felt a wild urge to laugh, but held it back. Instead she smiled softly, blinking through her tears. She glanced over to where the photo lay face-up on the comforter and shrugged.

"Right now, I can't trust her. Can't know what crazy thing she'll do next."

Buffy stared in mute horror as the stake slipped into Spike's chest. Time seemed to stand still and she met Spike's eyes, which were large and almost frightened. And then everything sped up as Faith tackled Willow to the ground, hard.

And Spike wasn't dust; she'd missed his heart.

"Oh, my God Spike!" Buffy rushed to his side, gingerly extracting the stake and throwing herself into his arms. Faith knelt up from Willow, who'd been knocked unconscious, and looked over to Buffy.

"Oh, man B," she said with a grin. "Is it just me or have your friends gotten crazier?"

Faith volunteered to help Xander home and take Willow to Giles' house while Buffy walked with Spike back to his crypt. They were silent the entire way, keeping their distance from each other. Wordlessly, Buffy followed Spike in, stopping after she'd passed the threshold. He immediately went to the fridge, pulling out a bag of blood and piercing it with one fang.

Buffy watched on silently as he drained the bag and tossed it to the side.

"So, this where you stake me, luv? Or would you rather Red come back and poke at me a few more times?"

"I'm not gonna stake you, Spike." He met her eyes warily, not trusting her words, then snorted.

"Right, then. You gonna let me walk around, unchipped? How do you know I'm not plannin' on draining the whole town tonight?" His words were empty, she could tell. He was really scared that she would stake him tonight, as the final precaution to their precarious relationship faltered and ceased to exist. He approached her slowly, incomprehension and apprehension flashing across his features. "Why aren't you stakin' me now, Slayer?"

"Because I love you." The words had slipped out without a second thought, and she bit her tongue immediately. But it was too late; he'd heard her. In a flash, he was in front of her, their bodies nearly touching as he lifted a hand to her face.

"What's that, love?"

The tears she'd been holding back until now threatened to overflow, and she lifted her own hands to his shoulder, fingers playing with the black cotton fabric. "But I don't know if I can do this."

"I'm taking you back to England with me."

The words were said with such decision and finality that they left no room for rejection by Willow. She was curled on Giles' couch, a dark blue afghan wrapped around herself and a cup of hot tea in her hands. Her face was pale and chalky, her green eyes still tinged with inky veins of black. Faith had carried her here, dumping one more unconscious girl onto the couch while Giles gaped in the open doorway. He'd been through much stress the last few weeks, she almost thought he seemed to be going gray. Faith had filled Giles in on the situation, although she didn't know Willow had been the one to remove the chip. When she'd returned from helping Xander home, it appeared Xander had filled Faith in on Willow's "brilliant plan". Willow had sat on the couch and cried the entire time, feeling herself crumbling inside.

"I messed up," she said softly. "I messed up really bad."

She did, and she was relieved to admit to it. She'd been a bad friend, gotten so caught up in being disgusted with Buffy, that she'd been unable to be a friend. And if she were to be honest with herself, she'd blamed herself over Buffy's predicament, tried to solve it all with magic.

"Yes, you did." Giles' glasses were dangling from his hand as he looked up at her. He was slumped, defeated, into a chair, elbows resting on his knees as one hand massaged his temples. But when she met his eyes, he smiled softly with that warm, paternal smile he saved for them, the core Scoobies. And she smiled back sadly, taking a sip of her tea.

Tara hung up the phone gently, a fresh wave of tears rising behind her eyeballs.

"_I'm leaving tomorrow, to go to England._"

She pulled the covers back up around her shoulders, feeling the cold sheet next to her where Willow was usually curled up at her side.

"_He's going to help me, teach me about magic._"

There was the picture she'd been crying over earlier, of them beneath the tree. That had been right after Willow had told her she loved her, when they'd gone for a picnic.

"_I wanted to tell you, let you know. I'll be thinking of you…"_

Turning over, she grabbed the empty pillow next to her, pulled it to her face, inhaled deeply.

"_And I'm going to miss you, a lot."_

It smelled like strawberries.

"_I love you."_

Tara closed her eyes, pretending she could feel Willow sleeping next to her, traced the sloping line of her silhouette in her mind.

"I love you, too."

"I don't know if we can do this," she repeated, keeping her gaze fixed on the black fabric between her fingertips. "I don't know if I can trust you, without the chip."

His face fell, and he reached up with both hands to cup her face. She hesitantly met his gaze, fingers falling lax on his shoulder. His eyes held her riveted, and she felt the tears silently coursing down her cheeks.

"Buffy," he breathed her name like a prayer; softly, reverently. "Buffy I would never, never hurt you, never do anything to hurt you. Or don't you know that?"

She jerked her head up and down almost imperceptibly, never breaking eye contact. Her breath was getting caught in her throat at the intensity of his gaze, the tears turning cold on her cheeks.

"It's not me I'm worried about Spike; it's everyone else." She whispered the words, a tinge of regret at voicing her fears. He snorted, rolling his eyes softly before fixing her with a soft smile.

"Bugger them - I don't need them. I need you, and if that mean never killing, never biting another human, then I won't. Not if doing that means losing you."

Her heart caught in her chest, the breathe expelling itself from her lungs in a gale. She smiled, one hand reaching up to clasp his where it cupped her face.

"Really, Spike? Never, ever again?"

"Bloody hell, woman. And have you coming after me with one of those soddin' stakes? I think not. Rather have you."

"Good. Cause I will kill you." She smiled, but he knew she meant it. Wrapping his arms around her, he lifted her to him, catching her mouth with his own. She threaded her arms all the way around his shoulders, letting him lift her legs to his waist as he carried her towards the nearby sarcophagus.

The mood quickly shifted, and she began to rub herself against him as he laid her down. He quickly followed, knuckles on either side of her head supporting him as he dipped his mouth down to hers. She arched up to meet it, fingers fumbling with the hem of his shirt.

"Buffy," he said her name again, softly, his eyes raking over her body. She responded with a deeper kiss, hands tugging at his heavy belt and pushing down his jeans. She smiled up at him, pausing momentarily to cup his face.

"I love you, Spike," she whispered, and he seemed to glow with happiness before his eyes clouded over with desire and he tugged at the hem of her jeans. In a moment they were both free of all clothing, and she sighed with contentment as he sunk inch-by-inch into her. As he began to move slowly inside of her, she locked her hands around his shoulders, holding him close and looking up into his eyes.

It didn't take long for them to both shudder quietly into orgasm, eyes still locked and moving with slow, languid thrusts. Buffy's ankles were crossed high around his back, one hand on the back of his neck, the other clutching his shoulder. As they slowly came down, she reached up to pet his face softly.

"We're going to be okay, then?" she asked softly, and he smiled.

"Think we just might be, pet."

"Hey, Buff."

Buffy swirled around to see Xander standing in the middle of her backyard, hands deep in his pockets and a sheepish grin. She set down the rake and crossed her arms, nervously walking over to where he stood.

"You're not gonna go all freaky-outy on me again, are you?" she asked warily, and he shook his head. They stood in silence for a moment, and Buffy couldn't help but notice that his eye was still swollen and purple.

"I just left the airport. Willow, Giles, and Adia left this morning." The statement hung in the air, a quiet reminder of too many bad things, and Buffy merely inclined her head. Xander was rubbing his hands together, mouth opening and closing as he searched for the right words.

"I'm sorry. I mean, I'm more than sorry, but I can't think of a better word," he let out a short laugh. "But I just wanted you to know. Me and Willow did and said a lot of stupid things these last few days. I guess these last few weeks, but you haven't been around…" He didn't mean it as an accusation, but Buffy still cringed.

"I know, and I'm working on it, on being around more."

"Good, good." He glanced up at her, and she gave him a small smile.

"I love Spike."

The words slipped out, and Xander paled. However, he swallowed hard and nodded.

"The chip?"

"He's not going to hurt anyone, Xander. He's done it for almost two years, he can do it now."

"How do you know he won't - "

"He won't. Because if he does, he knows he'll lose me." Xander met her eyes, and his expression softened.

"Who wouldn't do anything for you?"

It was as close as he would get to accepting Spike's declaration, but it was enough. Buffy reached out to hug him, before leading him up the steps to the house.

The two Slayers patrolled together the next night.

Funny how, after trying to kill each other for so many years, they fell into such an easy camaraderie. Buffy suspected they had both changed for the better over the years. Faith was more reserved, although she certainly retained her zest for a good fight, and a yearning for a better time after that. So after sweeping the cemeteries, they found themselves bumping and grinding together at the Bronze, more with each other than anyone else. Buffy found she enjoyed Faith's company, and as the two left in the early morning, Faith nudged Buffy.

"Anything new with lover boy?" she asked as they wove through the myriad of alleyways heading towards Buffy's house. It was shorter, and they sometimes bumped into vamps lurking and waiting for an easy meal.

Buffy grinned, casting her eyes to the side. "Not much."

"Don't see why you don't take a vacation; go kick it in Florida or something for a week."

Buffy brightened at the idea, turning to face Faith.

"That could be fun, getting away from the Hellmouth." She poked a finger into Faith. "And you're here."

Faith laughed.

"What, I gotta play babysitter for _your_ Hellmouth?"

"You saying you can't handle an apocalypse?"

Faith scoffed as they emerged onto Buffy's road.

"You are so on."


	11. Epilogue: Fumbling Towards Ecstasy

A/N: Thank you to the wonderful Sensei who agreed to beta the last two chapters! She's well fed with tons and tons of cookies. The kind with no calories.

Fumbling Towards Ecstasy

Lovesbitch91

Epilogue: Fumbling Towards Ecstasy

"_All the fear has left me now,  
I__'__m not frightened anymore.  
It__'__s my heart that pounds beneath my flesh  
It__'__s my mouth that pushes out this breath"_

Her hot little hands were scrambling at his duster, ripping it off, tearing up his tee-shirt, and somehow never letting their lips part. She was on top now, and one of his hands had slid up her shirt and was gently massaging her breast, fingers pinching and caressing the pebbled nipple. The other hand held her ass tight against him, then jerked upwards and pulled her frilly blouse off. The Buffy-Bot had never been so warm and alive, never emitted those breathy little gasps that she did as he nibbled her lower lip and slid his mouth along her jaw, kissing her in that sweet-smelling spot on her neck where the blood pumped strongest. He pressed his mouth there, and the scent of it made him harder, so that he groaned.

"Bloody hell, Buffy…" He was so wrapped up in the pleasure of her that he was unable to articulate more. Buffy reached between them, found the zipper of his jeans and wrenched it downwards. In a moment his cock sprang forward, pale pink head drooling and erect.

Before he realized what she intended to do, she slid down his length to take him into her mouth. She was unsure of herself, kissing the tip and meeting his eyes briefly. He watched in silent wonderment as the slick head passed her lips, and her bright eyes met his for one brief second – so full of happiness, contentment, and a pleased sense of pride – and it was only a few moments before he felt himself buck forward in orgasm, his cock softening slightly in her mouth as she sucked him dry.

She scrambled back over him to capture his lips, letting him taste himself on her tongue as she crouched over his already hardened cock. Still kissing him, she sunk down onto it, moaning in pleasure as he stretched and filled her. He was grasping her everywhere, bouncing her with his hands on her hips, and then moving over the softness of her arms, the silky undersides of her breasts. She rode him slowly, taking long, drawn-out thrusts as she worked herself on him. All of a sudden he had her flipped over, and her eyes rolled to the top of her head as he began to pound into her and she let out a long, heavy moan.

"Fuckfuckfuck, do it Spike, do it, I want you to," she said breathlessly, the words tumbling out of her mouth as she held his mouth to her neck. He brought his game face forward with ease, the liquid sound drowned out in the midst of her moans. The sharp canines scraped over the hot flesh, rasping tongue flashing out to lick her gently, and then slid in, velvet smooth.

Her eyes rolled into her head as her orgasm crashed upon her. Colors were exploding behind her eyelids, deep auburns and golden yellows, and stars were dancing and planets crashed as she clutched onto him for her very life. Every part of her body hummed in rapturous pleasure, from her fluttering stomach to the two pinpoints of heat where his fangs had sunk into her neck. When she finally opened her eyes he was lying above her, game face gone, kissing her neck and mouth softly.

"You really did that. I really did that, didn't I? That wasn't a dream, was it?" Her eyes were so big, yet content and glazed in pleasure. She smiled up at him, brought his lips closer to hers so that she could taste the salty remnants of herself on him.

"Bloody hell, I love you looking at you like that, all warm and melted in my arms after you've been fucked good." There was a snarky tone to his voice, but she laughed at his words, reaching up again to kiss him.

"You're not so hard on the eyes either."

******

"What do you think about a vacation," Buffy asked later that night on patrol. He shot her a look that clearly read _"What the hell are you on about,"_ but she continued. "I mean, I think it'll be good to get away from here for a little while, to go someplace like New York, or Florida. And Faith already said she'd watch over the Hellmouth for me. Dawn can come with, or she could stay here. She'll be out of school for Christmas…"

In a second he had snatched her to him, pushing her up against a tree and bringing his mouth low and close to hers.

"If we go anywhere, it's just you and me, Slayer."

She giggled, bringing her arms up to his shoulder.

"Where would you take me, Spike?" she asked with a high, childish voice, pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth.

"Right around the corner, if we were to go right now," he murmured suggestively, pressing his hardness lightly against her. She gave him a coquettish grin, batting her lashes and reaching between them.

And then she was sprinting away, in the direction of his crypt with her laughter floating high on the breeze. He watched her with dark eyes before rushing after her.

******

"Let's go to Florida, luv."

Buffy opened one bleary eye, and raised an eyebrow. They had ended up at her house, in her bed tonight. They had spent the night watching movies with Dawn, while vampire and teenager painted each other's nails. They hadn't spoken of Buffy's vacation idea for the past few days, and the fact that he brought it up startled her.

"Really, you want to?"

"It'd be fun, sure. Can go swimming naked in the middle of the night."

"But Spike," she protested, still half asleep. "It'll be _freezing_." He laughed at her, rolling over to wrap an arm around her.

"It's bloody Florida, pet. Never gets cold."

She smiled, her eyes already closing. In her half-sleep she nodded against his shoulder.

"Okay, Spike. Let's go to Florida."

******

The End.


End file.
